An Ode to the End
by Ivyclimb
Summary: Three versions of Earth, all different, all previously unconnected. Read pre-invasion, invasion, and post-invasion as these families figure out who they are to each other, and determine what to do when morals and ethics get pulled into life and death. A story about family, friends, and unanswered questions for The Avengers and their hero children.
1. 4 - 14d Invasion

**Earth 4**

 **Day 14 of Invasion**

* * *

Fay's hand slapped the pavement with raw energy, the skin scraping off in seemingly slow motion as the rest of her body came cascading down. It had momentarily been one of the most painful things she had ever experienced until time sped up and her head cracked against the cement. A loud gasp emitted from her mouth as she lay motionless, the ringing in her ears vibrating through her skull and making her vision go dark. Her eyes closed and opened blindly while her mouth hung open in silent agony. Though blood gushed from many wounds, she only faintly tasted it staining her lips.

It took her a while to realize what had happened and then a while more to figure out that she wasn't getting up - that she couldn't. The pain in her head was too much to bear and made everything around her disorientated. All of her senses were muted and her body was filled with an odd rage of quiet, dampened only by the constant drone vibrating her entire body and setting it ablaze in white hot pain, her eyes rolling and unrolling into her head. As she lay there all contorted, even her thoughts didn't seem to be working. She couldn't focus and she couldn't touch or feel which was a heartbreaking relief amongst all the pent up emotions. To be so empty inside, filled so much with one thing that you could only let it take over and control you, was something Fay hated to admit felt freeing.

The last few days hadn't been without grief for anyone; Fay had thought it selfish to think her losing somebody was more significant than anyone else's loss. So she had tossed it aside, pushed through the hurt and misery like everyone else and continued to fight. After a while she even stopped crying, not because her eyes were dry, but because it was a luxury she couldn't afford anymore. To simply feel numb inside was much easier, much safer, and much needed.

Minutes passed like hours as she lay broken and twisted on the ground, her ears eventually giving way and clearing, opening her body to a slew of new experiences. Her breathing became surround sound, filling her entire body until she thought she would go crazy. Her bloodied and skinless hands felt the sharp rubble beneath her body, though she couldn't find the energy to lift them, or feel her legs. Her eyes popped open again to the blurred devastation in front of her - to the broken people and to the burning sky.

Their screams were that of a tortured melody; the way they ran like a beating drum. She could hear the harmony within the life of the flames, dancing and swaying and _living_ in the chaos. It was horribly beautiful music.

Tears mixed with blood in her pale blue eyes and made crimson paths down her dusty cheeks. She had tried so hard, but now all she felt was the exhaustion seeping through her veins like ice that quickly turned into the same concrete below her. Reality was slowly slipping away, her will to hang on growing wings of beauty and gently dancing away. She could see it clearly, hear the sharp noise of each flap, see the beautiful colors it took with it. She smiled after it, eagerly wishing she could chase it through a meadow of flowers. But there were no more flowers, and no more meadows of anything except destruction and corpses. All remembrance of happiness had vanished the moment the invasion had started, from the first life they took to the millionth and the billionth. And now hers.

It was almost a beautiful thought, in a sort of sort of depressing way. Dying like this was poetic; she had broken her oath to protect the people and now she would suffer for it. Was there really any other way to go? This was fair – it was horrible and terrifying and her truest nightmare come to life, but she easily came to terms with it. Surely this would count as a noble death? Dying as a soldier in humanities last battle…now all she had to do was close her eyes…

But something was running towards her; a blurry motion of limbs and spinning colors as she cried harder. This was no butterfly, no this was a monster sent straight from the deepest depths of Hell. Maybe it was Satan himself coming to finish his minion's job.

"No, no, no, not them. God, please! Not them!" Her scrambled words quickly turned into screeches of agony as her body desperately writhed. Every movement caused waves of anguish to wash over her but she couldn't stop. She was okay with dying alone; she couldn't take any more of the torture. "God, let me go peacefully I beg of you! No!" Pleads to her father above changed yet again into simple wails as it grabbed her shoulder. It was trying to say something to her, trying to communicate but she couldn't hear it over her own vocalizations of terror. They did that sometimes, made clattering noises and buzzed to her as if trying to say something. Of course she could never make sense of it, but this one sure was trying hard. It was saying one word, over and over again – a word so familiar to her if only she could stop crying.

"Fay!" It was her name, over and over and over again, spoken from a voice so familiar she could recognize it in her sleep. She thought that's what it was for a moment, a hallucination or her body finally giving up and slipping away into the eternal home.

"D-dad?" Blood trickled up from her raw throat only to trace a new path down her chin, her breaths coming in panicked gasps. "Daddy?"

"It's me, Fay, I'm here." Fay let out a strangled sound of relief as her fears instantly melted away, leaning into the touch as best she could as another strong hand came down to wipe the blood from her eyes and a forlorn Steve Rogers came into view above her. He was rugged and clearly upset, his red white and blue suit ripped and more grey than anything. His hair lay disheveled and stuck to his forehead in clumps, his face red and blotchy with sweat and effort.

"I'm here, baby doll, I'm here," he was crying his own tears, his classically strong voice wavering as he tried to hold it together. His trademark blue eyes watered like she had never seen, desperately scanning over her body as he shifted her and she wailed again in anguish.

"Fay!" He cried so desperately, steadying her immediately. His voice was so strained that it sounded hoarse, and where a raging blue sea usually looked down at her form his eyes was now a cloudy night starting to rain. She had never seen him so broken. "It's okay, darling, everything is okay." Though cracked, his words still calmed her and she managed to swallow through the pain. She wanted to just close her eyes and fade away to the sound of his voice but she knew he would want her to keep them open because he was the type of person who would wish her to stay alive, to keep fighting. How much was she truly like her father? The coming moments would surely determine this.

"Fay, please," he was actually _begging_ her _._ She stared up blankly at him, lacking the energy to do anything else. She could hear his voice but it was like the words were far away, growing fainter and fainter the longer he pleaded to her. This was it, this was the moment. Fay began to panic. It was now or never, chose to fight or accept defeat. Certainly there wouldn't be dishonor either way?

The threat hung in the air like a feather – all too eager to be blown away. And something weird happened when Fay tempted that feather; every blink of her eyes transported her to a dark place. It felt vaguely cold, maybe even damp, but defiantly lonely. Fay knew instantly that it wasn't Hell, but on the other hand, it definitely wasn't Heaven. Purgatory. It was a realization that stuck itself into her head without any prompting. It was a thought that stung at her heart and disappointed her greatly. So if she was to die, she was to go to Purgatory? What started out as heartache quickly turned into acceptance with every slow blink that left her eyes closed longer and longer. Her father's voice seemed all but silent now, a cool breeze sweeping stray hairs across her forehead, a calm voice humming off into the distance. It was enticing, intriguing, and then there was movement.

She began to panic, her breaths catching and getting stuck in her throat, her eyes widening as she struggled with the weight of the world. His voice was an echo now, his grasp upon her shoulder a distant touch. The longer she kept her eyes open the more her surroundings came back to her, so she held them open until they stung and then she kept them open longer. Blood stung her eyes as she urgently cried it out, beginning to understand that what she needed to do was not what she so desperately wanted. She cried harder; she just craved the sweet feeling of nothing. The cool breeze on her face and the humming voice. All she had to do was close her eyes.

But she couldn't.

God had to send her father of all people? It wasn't fair. All her life Fay put her faith into heaven; chose the path of God above only to be let down day after day, minute after minute after he does nothing to save his creation during the apocalypse. Yet here he was in her final moment, sending her the one person who would make her stay. Fay knew that if he had sent anyone else she would have let go by now. She would be dead. _He could have sent Ty and I still would have let go._

But God had sent her father; Steven Grant Rogers and Fay couldn't disappoint him. Not again. _Fuck you,_ she thought with all her might, her thoughts venom within her broken self. _This is either a joke or I'm still needed somewhere but fuck you for making anybody endure this. This is worse than Hell. Shame on you._ She wasn't mad that she was there, fragmented on the ground, but rather that all of humanity was simultaneously suffering and there wasn't a smiling face in the entire planet that wasn't an attempt at hiding pain.

She fought.

Fay fought so hard against dying that she thought the effort would kill her. She fought to keep her eyes open, fought to concentrate on her father who was still talking to her, longing to cradle her into his chest but too scared to move her. And as she focused and as she fought, she realized he was praying to God, too. How long had they been there – her dying and him praying over her? It was a rather biblical scene, but at least she got her answer: Fay Rogers was very much like her father. That only propelled her to fight harder.

"Daddy?" she managed to call weakly, immediately drawing his attention to her. His careful thumb caressed her cheek, his tears splashing against her forehead causing jolting pain with every drop. He answered to her, spoke soft words and looked just like him, but he wasn't Steve Rogers. This imposter in front of her was too frail, too ruined, and too vulnerable. Her father was a resilient, courageous man. He wasn't without hope. She longed to see him smile, longed for the days not long gone but seemingly extinct when his soulful blue eyes and perfect smile would teach her the rules of the world, put a hand on her shoulder and help her steer – anything was better than watching him cry.

"Are they gone?" She whispered, not being able to manage much else. Fay wanted more than anything to get up off the ruined ground but knew that it could kill her, that it probably would. Steve nodded solemnly, closing his eyes for a few seconds. Surely they'd been gone for longer than anticipated. Surely the others thought they were dead.

They were all probably grieving right now, not allowing themselves to shed tears but giving a silent and mutual nod while adding their names to the list right next to all the others. That's what she would be doing right now, if she were at base and someone else was gone. You come to get accustomed to the knowledge that whoever doesn't return right away doesn't return at all.

"Yes, sweetheart, the wave is over. But they'll be back in a few hours so we have to get you back to the base, okay? You have to help me here, baby – I need—" then his eyes focused on her face and he sobbed, wiping away his tears furiously and desperately pulling himself together.

"How bad is it?" Fay coughed, and she saw her father shudder. Maybe it was worth closing her eyes, if it meant she didn't have to see this. This was worse than any injury. This was something that should have never been seen by anybody because Steve Rogers knows when to fall apart and when to cry. Now wasn't the time for either and yet there he was.

"It's bad, Fay, its bad." He could never lie to his baby girl, but she wished he had. "I don't know what's broken but," he paused to catch his breath. "Darling your head." Then fresh tears began to fall. He reached out again and hesitated, his hand hovering over her face. He drew it back with guilt. "I'm going to pick you up."

"Okay, daddy." She knew she was in for her share of pain but she also knew that she had to be strong. For him. That was God's plan. She wasn't alive because she was important or special, she was alive because Steve Rogers was needed and the world needed Captain America and Captain America needed his daughter. There would never be a moment when that wasn't true.

"I'm sorry, Fay." Steve looked down at her, wiping at his tears again and smearing her blood onto his face. Fay knew there was little reason for him to apologize. In fact, there was none at all but yet here he was, despairing at the sight of his child dying in front of him. It was a weird thing, but she somehow understood it and was oddly thankful for his apology. She tried to lift her head and sit up, but in her attempts to make him feel better she forgot about herself. She gasped and her head went slamming back down only to be caught by her father's gentle hands.

"Fay, don't!" But it needed to be done. And Steve knew it, too. It was one of those unspoken things but he could see it and she could feel it; the amount of blood she was losing should have already killed her. The day was just filled with miracles.

There was another cry from her body as his arms tucked under her, and on a count of three her body was lifted up and she momentarily lost consciousness. Her eyes rolled back into her head which bobbed down violently as all her limbs went slack and Steve paused, wondering how in the hell he was supposed to get her to safety before she died. But then her eyes sparked open again, lifeless and grey, but they were open and so he pushed on, slowly limping through the rubble because he knew if he ran or jostled her again she would be gone.

Still, with every step her head pounded, and in that moment Fay knew her brain had slammed into her skull. Her whole body felt warm to the touch and was a raging inferno inside. There was something seriously not right and both Fay and Steve knew it.

She could feel the limp in his walk, causing her to become more and more disheartened. If she was dying, and he was injured, who was left in New York? Her brother, Spiderman, Black Widow, Clint, Bucky. Doctor Strange and his son were with Tony and his children fighting the attacks in Asia, and of course T'Challa was fighting from the remains of Wakanda. Vision took Wanda to fight in South America, and Bruce and Scott Lang were doing what they could in Europe while the rest of the kids and B list heroes were fighting with their lives all across the world, but their numbers were simply too small and the list of the dead outweighed the list of the living tenfold. Five billion lives lost and counting; Hope Pym, Bobbi Morse, Luke Cage, Thor, Loki, Matt and Scott Murdock, Danny Rand, Carol Danvers, Jessica Jones, Sam Wilson, James Rhodes, Howard II and Jay Stark, Dante and Clara Barton, not to mention the entirety of the Guardians of the Galaxy and Sharon Carter…the list was simply too extensive to recall. The amount of people out there defining and redefining what it meant to be a hero; laying down their lives for a cause they knew would never succeed. Fay wondered if today would be the day her name was added, and if not, then when – when would be the day when humanity's last hero stood against the malevolent, beaten down and abused but somehow remaining defiant and determined.

This had all happened in the last two weeks. One night she was having supper with her family, watching her dad and brother get up for seconds and then thirds, wondering just how much food would finally be enough, and then they came. The invasion had started and for fourteen days, day in and day out they came in waves and wrought havoc against the Earth. No one knew why and no one knew how but they were powerful and infinite. The street lay buried under their dead bodies, but once one wave ended another would start in a few hours. It was like a sick game, the hope of it being over, a few hours to catch your breath before you were flung back into it, figuratively or literally.

And here in New York, Fay was sure that they were in fact just playing games. They would come to you, dressed as your worst nightmare and toy with you, slowly chip away at you until you were as close to death as humanly possible and then, and only then, would they end it. They had come for her like that, transformed into giant spiders and batted her around. She couldn't penetrate their thick hides no matter how hard she tried and then one grabbed her, crushing her ribs until her whole body went black and blue and then threw her up, up, up into the sky.

And then they were gone, back to play again in a few hours' time.

She had been eating dinner when it started. Brats and hamburgers fresh off the grill via dad chef Captain America, fresh salad made by Mom, and all the leftover lasagna and pancakes Fay and James could scavenge. They were outside on the patio- Steve had cooked more than plenty in case anyone decided to show up; for when you're an Avenger, you're part of a family and no one in the Rogers family was ever going to be hungry. It was a warm day, not scalding hot but sunny and fresh -

Steve tripped, landing on his knees with a large thud. Her body jolted, her neck snapping up and down and her blood flowed like lava. It poured out of her mouth and nose until she was choking on it and Steve was forced to set her down and roll her on her side or force drowning her.

"Fay," he wept, angry at himself for tripping and angry at the world for existing. "Fay, I'm sorry," it came out almost like a sigh. He didn't know what to say. He was at a complete loss, and he nearly just dropped his daughter. He was lonely, lonelier than he had ever been, and now he was forced to watch as his daughter spewed out blood, and wait for to finish and either die or somehow stay alive. He wanted to be comforting, to be strong for her, to be the Steve Rogers that she and everyone else needed. But he just couldn't be. He was a broken man, snapped in half like a twig and then shredded like paper. Steve hadn't lost as much as Clint, maybe, or hundreds of millions of people out there, but he had lost enough. Friends, family, Sharon. Her loss weighed on Steve heavier than the impending doom hidden in the fire above him. He had hadn't seen Sharon's demise but he was the one to find her limp body, cold and grey from days gone by searching for it. He was the one to clutch her paper skin to his chest, to weep into her tangled hair. She had looked so fake then, but they all did when the invasion got them. They took something from the people, injected their spiny fingers into the base of the neck and took something right from them – something that makes their body go all grey and cold, something that leaves them looking empty and fake. A lot of people think they take people's souls. Steve didn't believe that at first, but, looking down at his daughter, he was beginning to.

This time around, however, he had been the one to see Fay. Steve had been fighting by himself for a while by then, he and Bucky had been divided by the aliens. He had just gotten done fighting off another small horde when he had noticed something pale in the sky, a drastic contrast from the blazing fire. To his horror and shock, he was soon to realize that it was his daughter. His Peggy Fay.

It would take him until now to realize it was a miracle, and to be grateful that if it had to happen, it happened then. The mid-day wave had ended, not that he could tell the time from the fire surrounding the planet, but rather by count. If it would have lasted just seconds longer they would have taken her life. Steve had stared in horror for moments on end, watching as her body crashed into the ground. It was the single worst moment of his life. Forgetting to check in at base – forgetting everything else—he ran faster than he could ever remember running.

She stopped vomiting and he bent down to kiss her cheek, closing his eyes against her burning skin for a moment before apologizing again and picking her up. A soft whimper left her lips and Steve lost it. He didn't cry, and he didn't speak, in fact, he did nothing. Whatever was left in him in that moment withered away and crumbled in the breeze. Steve Rogers wasn't a man anymore but a simple soldier trying to complete his mission.

Fay became limp in his arms and he had to stop and check her body for a pulse. It was faint and it was slow but it was there and he was grateful. Steve never would have imagined that one of his happiest moments would be during a time like this, something as small and pathetic as his weak daughter's pulse, showing him that she hadn't died just yet.

So he trudged on, knowing his ankle was broken and altogether not caring. For he wasn't a man, and maybe that was a new fact or maybe it had been like this for a while, but it wasn't important because if he didn't get there, if he didn't finish this mission, it would be the end of the line.


	2. 312 - Pre

**Earth 312**

 **Pre-Invasion**

* * *

"What do you think?" Carly looked up from scrolling on her phone to look at her friend through the giant mirror. It covered the entire wall so that every nook and cranny of her room was easily visible in the reflection. She blinked at herself through it, watching her head tilt and red curls fall over her shoulder before her gaze fell on Emily who was posing extravagantly in tall black stripper heels and a golden dress that showed off way too much of everything a young woman should want to be modest about. They shared a look through the reflective glass and Carly smirked.

"It's perfect." She gently slid off the bed and walked over to stand beside her now taller friend, again catching herself in the mirror and quickly turning away. "So, are ones necessary for the payment or can I just give you a fifty? I can still slide it in your bra strap if you'd like." Carly tossed a wad of cash between her hands, teasingly raising her eyebrows at her red-cheeked friend.

Emily gave out a huff and whined softly though it easily turned into a laugh as she applied a bright shade of red lipstick and popped her lips. "Too short?" It was a rhetorical question – Carly knew it – but she answered anyway.

Giving a snort, Carly popped her hip out and rested a hand on it. "You might as well call yourself Eve and strip down completely."

Emily nearly cackled and kept eye contact through the mirror. "As long as there's an Adam, I don't see a problem with it." Her seductive words made Carly roll her eyes heavily, barely able to restrain the sigh from escaping her lips. She was about to question herself on why she hung out with Emily when she began to talk again.

"Besides, it's barely shorter than what you're wearing," she pointed out, rolling her own eyes with amusement as Carly's hands reached down to pull at the short black skirt.

" _I'm_ single." It was true, but it still stung a little to point out. Not that she hadn't done everything on the list of things she shouldn't with the other gender, but it never meant anything because _they_ never meant anything. Every boy she didn't want she had and every boy she wanted she couldn't have. She blamed it all on her father, whether it was his fault or not. It was easier that way.

"Well, Carlos is an idiot anyways. Maybe I should be single." The pair shared another laugh, Carly's rather forced, and Emily turned to look at her. "So, who's the skirt for? Is it Dylan?"

Emily bored Carly. All the who-haw and unnecessary babbling about boys and lipstick brands made her want to push spikes into her face, but Emily was her ticket out into the world. Through Emily Carly was able to hear and see what a normal girl doing teenage stuff was – able to participate on such activities herself. It hadn't taken much to win Emily over; given whom her father was it wasn't hard to do much of anything, less he deemed it wrong. And for Carly, boy did he deem a lot of stuff wrong.

But still, Emily was here in _her_ house, in _her_ room, wearing _her_ lipstick and bracelets, skipping around on _her_ soft carpet – it definitely wasn't a real friendship. Both girls knew it. Carly gave Emily all the money she needed to support her crazy shopping sprees and crack addiction while Emily helped Carly sneak out and gave her addresses to all the right parties. On the inside they hated each other but that didn't matter because on the outside, splayed out for everyone to see, they were best friends.

A hand snapped in front of her face, perfect nails scraping together annoyingly. Emily looked at her with impatience. "Hello? Earth to Carly?" Upon Carly's questioning glance, Emily rolled her ugly brown eyes. "Did you invite Dylan?" She spoke slowly and stupidly, like Carly was a baby. She pictured her fist connecting with Emily's face before she replied.

"Yuck, no way." Carly made a disgusted face and grabbed her phone from her bed, quickly tapping away at the screen. She checked the time and sighed, running a hand through her styled curls. Why was he always late?

"I thought you two were a thing?" Emily walked over and smoothed her hair down again, though quickly caught her reflection in the mirror again and went back to posing. _Here we go again, talking about boys._

"Two weeks ago, maybe. But then I found out he just had a fetish for redheads." Sure, she and Dylan had been close. They'd never dated, God no, but they'd fucked plenty of times. She always found it weird, his fascination with her flame colored hair, but then things got extra weird and she pulled the plug. She wasn't usually a kink-shamer, but everyone had to have a limit. She examined her ginger hair for a few moments before she went back to texting. Where was he?

"So, Robin then?"

Carly gave a sly smirk and swayed her body in thought. Now Robin, there was a boy. He was a senior, a grade above them both, but he was the soccer team's best player and he wasn't even a complete asshat either. She slid her feet into her own, slightly shorter, black heels and led the way down the stairs. "I'm not wearing this for anyone," she answered honestly, " Just, you know, if Robin _happens_ to be here tonight and see me…Well, let's just say; I wouldn't complain." She sent a flirty wink to Emily.

Emily squealed with delight and fawned over Carly as if she were a puppy. "Your dad would be so disappointed in you," she joked, her eyebrows raised so high Carly wondered how it was even possible. It definitely wasn't a good look for Emily. She shook her head with another smirk of her own.

"Trust me, daddy's already plenty disappointed; and he only knows half of the things I've done," this earned another scream of entertainment from the brunette behind her. "The great Tony Stark – won't even let his princess out of the castle." Carly felt the familiar anger wash over her as she gripped the banister tightly, her knuckles white with effort. All of this, Emily, the partying, the booze, it was all because Tony hid her away, kept her locked up and in chains. He had a habit of underestimating his enemy, and he had messed up royally this time. The doorbell rang and sprung Carly from her thoughts. She gave a light shrug and reached for the doorknob. "If I can't party out there, I guess we just bring the party here." She opened the heavy door to reveal a good looking teenage boy in a designer tux, dirty blonde hair short but clearly un-brushed. Emily peaked over her shoulder.

Carly frowned. "You're late."

He simply pursed his lips and gave an innocent shrug.

"Didn't you get my texts?" Carly asked, crossing her arms in annoyance. She knew the answer was a yes when his blue eyes grew a hue of mischief. "What, you can't even be bothered to text back?"

"Nag, nag, nag, that's all I ever hear from you, woman," he responded, fixing one of his sleeve cuffs. His voice was almost as annoying as Emily's face. Carly could already feel a migraine coming.

She sighed and tapped her foot. "Roy, where's the beer?"

A huge grin plastered itself on his face as he hooked a thumb over his shoulder and pushed past Carly into the house.

"Those fine gentlemen were looking to make a quick buck. Plus, a party at Stark House does peak people's interests," Roy spread his arms out wide and chuckled as Carly and Emily leaned out of the door to get a better look. It was true, a dozen early twenties men were making their way up the front lawn, each carrying multiple cases of beer.

"I don't know these people!" Carly hissed as she spun on Roy, but Emily quickly put a hand over her mouth.

"What she _means_ to say is that they are extremely cute and extremely welcomed to the party. And while we're at it; hiya Ray, I'm Emily." She smiled flirtatiously at him and he grinned, sending her a wink.

"It's Roy," Carly corrected, pushing Emily's hand away. Emily didn't seem to care. She rubbed her temples and Roy momentarily frowned.

"Carly?" He asked, his superior façade flickering.

"Go start the music," Carly snapped at him, pulling her skirt down further. "This was just supposed to be a stupid school thing. You were supposed to just summon some beer and invite all your weird high-school freaks." She turned to Emily. "I should have known Roy would mess it up."

Emily squealed as Ray looked down and walked away, and grabbed Carly's arm - apparently she was oblivious to the mess up. "You didn't tell me you knew Ray _Strange_! The Warlock himself – in this very house!"

Carly pushed the girl off of her. "Chill it Em, he's a complete loser. Of course I know him, I know them all. I only invited him because I knew he could get beer."

"If your dad finds out you're so gonna be dead. He'll try harder to push you and _Mister Perfect Grant Rogers_ together." Emily found the whole situation to be a rather funny joke. Carly wished she could be anywhere else.

Carly pretended to vomit, running a hand over her face. "Please, the only thing keeping that from happening is that nice little age gap that makes it illegal for us to date."

The thing was, Carly could see herself with someone like Grant. Someone level headed, brave, courageous, kind and caring…Grant had been her best friend growing up; they were inseparable. But then one day something changed and he grew an unmistakable crush on her and became almost as overprotective as her father. Carly was forced to push him away. It was like losing a brother.

Emily frowned, "It's not like you haven't made out with college students before-"

"You really think I'd let my dad know that?" Carly exclaimed, causing realization to hit Emily and she nodded her head approvingly.

"Nicely done."

"Obviously." Carly excused herself as the men came lumbering in; quickly instructing them on where to put the beer as music came blasting through the air.

"I didn't know your speakers went this loud!" Emily shouted as she filled a cup up for herself and then for Carly who waved it aside. Emily shrugged and gave it to a grateful Roy who began to chug. _Revolting._

"They don't!" Carly clarified, "but he's got all that time and temporal space power so who knows what the hell he's up to!" Roy pointed at her and winked, taking another big gulp of beer.

Soon bodies flooded the house and the constant thumping inside Carly's head was drowned out in the music and sea of swarming bodies. Somewhere in between casting floating orbs of multicolored lights and taking responsibility for moving the party out to the pool, Roy had managed to suspend fog throughout the house. Carly found it hard to see and rather creepy, but everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves so she stopped worrying about it and reminded herself that she was supposed to be having fun. _This is for you; this is your chance to be a crazy teenager for once. Shake it off, loosen your limbs and go dance._

So she did as her brain pleaded and before she knew it she was yelling and giggling and having a grand old time. She made eye contact with one of Roy's beer-lackies through the fog and gave him what she hoped was a seductive smile. After all, she had been practicing.

"Clary!" A voice rang over the crowd to her left and she regrettably turned her attention away from one attractive drunk man to another. There Roy stood in all his glory, blonde hair messier than before and suit jacket unbuttoned and hanging slightly from his shoulders. He had multiple hickies on his neck and lipstick on his mouth. She raised an eyebrow.

"Clary, my main girl, my C-L-A-R-Y," he stumbled over to her, giving her a big grin. She blinked hard at the awful smell of his breath which turned into amazement that he could still spell, even given that she was not, in fact, Clary.

"It's Carly, actually," she corrected him, trying her hardest to hide a smile.

He looked confused for a moment and started to count on his fingers. Carly watched him with amused confusion before he seemingly gave up and returned to grinning at her.

"So…where do we stand on the use of a spare bedroom….if you know what I mean? Ah, you know what I mean!" He stumbled and Carly reached out to steady him, watching him with concern.

"Roy, you're seventeen," she scolded, finding it hard to look him in the eyes. He laughed and swatted at her, giving a light giggle.

"Okay, thanks boo. How do I look?" He held his arms out and spun around for her, and she sighed and pulled his jacket back up around his shoulders.

"Like an overdressed weasel," she finally settled on some words, watching him look around and pick up a random cup half full of beer. She sighed and grabbed it from him, pushing him away as he tried to reach out for it.

"You both gave consent before getting drunk?" She asked slapping him lightly as his gazed wandered. He nodded enthusiastically and began to walk away.

"Use protection!" She called after him and got a hand wave in return. Carly frowned and looked down at the beer, hesitating before putting it back. Of course she would be the only one not having fun. Someone had to look out for these poor bastards.

Her gaze swept the room before landing on Emily and Robin heavily making out on the corner. Both held beer in one hand and grasped at each other with the other. It was a disgusting sight so she looked away. "It's okay," she told herself as she went to sit on the couch, "it's okay."

The minutes passed by like hours to Carly – or maybe it was hours. She vaguely remembered getting several sodas from the fridge and peeing once or twice. For the most part everything was fine; there were no fights and not many people having sex where they really shouldn't.

The couch dipped down next to her and she looked up from her phone, the attractive guy from earlier was leaning heavily her way. A disco orb floated past him and he looked even more attractive in the cascading light. Dark brown hair fell lightly into his face from where it had been styled before, his intense blue eyes changing shades as the light went by. Her breath hitched.

"The party girl should never be bored," he slurred, the raunchiness of his breath making it harder for her to focus on what he was saying.

"I'm fine," she smiled to him, expecting him to leave. Instead, she was surprised to see him frown slightly and shake his head.

"Play a game of Monopoly with me?" He held out a thin hand to her, his fingers bony and long. Under his other arm he held Clary's old game of Monopoly. So, he had been snooping. Carly shook her head with a short laugh.

"No thanks. I'm fine," she repeated. She was shocked again as he shrugged and leaned back into the couch next to her, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

"Cool, we can chill for a while." Carly looked at him like he wasn't from Earth and he gave her a genuine smile. Well, it was as genuine as he could make it in his drunken state. She nodded her head slightly and relaxed back into the cushions. The air was still as the pair sat there, the party swarming around them. There was a few awkward seconds when a pair of soon-to-be-lovers fell over the edge of the couch during their make-out session, but they quickly righted themselves and continued elsewhere.

"I'm Matt," he was looking up at the ceiling, Carly feeling bad that he was still there. As it turned out, she wasn't really in the party mood.

"Look, Matt," she smiled at him as she used his name but he didn't seem to notice. Man, he was really focused on that ceiling. Carly glanced up in curiosity but found nothing out of the ordinary. She shrugged. _Drunk people._

"I'm fine, really," she insisted, "go enjoy the party. That's what it's here for."

"Noooo, I'm fine too! I'm Matt." Carly was about to point out that he had already said that when she got the hint.

"Oh, right – I'm Carly. Carly Stark, but you probably already knew that." She brushed her hair away from her shoulders and looked up to catch Matt staring at her. His gazed bored into her, the pure intensity making Carly frustratingly intrigued.

"Nice to meet you Carly, let's play Monopoly."

"You're too drunk to play," Carly pointed out, watching his eyes spark with life.

"Uno, then."

She looked at him skeptically.

Then they were sitting at the kitchen table, clusters of cards in their hands. Unfortunately for Carly, Matt was a great Uno player even in his drunken state. He concentrated with all his might throughout the entire game, only getting distracted once when someone poured beer on him, the liquid quickly staining his shirt as he laid down a green three.

"Aw, man!" He whined, his unfocused eyes trying to blink the stain away. Carly laughed and passed him a few napkins. The night went on just like that, the party raging around them as they played dozens of games of Uno. There was a span of a few hours where the only thing Matt wanted to talk about was ducks. He knew a surprising amount of duck facts for even a sober person – though most of his words were too slurred to make much sense to Carly who, for the first time in a long line of meaningless parties, was having quite a bit of fun.

They put down the cards when Matt got the sudden interest in showing her videos of his two dogs back home. It just so happened to be that Matt was from Maine, transferring to New York to go to college. The most heartbreaking thing to him was having to leave his best friends, Cheddar and Sweeney, behind.

"I just miss them so much!" Matt wailed, clinging to Carly as she tried not to laugh. She gently rubbed his back, trying to brighten him up by asking for more duck facts but it didn't seem to be working.

And then Grant Rogers showed up. Carly felt a hand pull her up and suddenly her and Matt were pushed away from each other, separated by a tall, sturdy figure.

"Grant?" Carly asked, and then screamed as he hulled off and punched Matt square in the face, blood immediately spurting out of his nose.

"Grant!" Carly screamed, racing past him. "Matt!" She bent down to help him up, the few party goers not currently in the pool turning to watch the commotion.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" Matt exclaimed, clutching desperately to his nose. Carly handed him a box of tissues.

"What the hell?" She screeched to Grant, craning her neck to glare at him from her spot on the ground. Slowly she helped Matt stand up and shielded him from the super-strength man in front of them. Grant's icy blue gaze seared through her as Matt began to stumble away, taking quick glances back.

"I-I'll see you, Carly." He said before turning tail and fleeing the scene. Carly barely had time to process the emotions before Grant spoke again in a fit of rage.

"What the hell do you think you were doing? What is this? Who was that?" The anger in his voice surprised Carly as she gaped at him and looked around in embarrassment. People were still staring.

"Grant, stop!" Carly interrupted his questions and rubbed her forehead, refusing to say anything. He looked around angrily, his fists still clenched by his sides, his usual stoic face contorted and red. His eyes landed on a cup and his rage continued.

"Have you been drinking?" He demanded, picking up a cup to smell it and slamming it back down with disgust. "Carly Stark-!"

"I didn't drink anything!" Her words caused him to stop and the shock upon his face was not feigned.

"Oh." He stood there before her, arms limp by his sides and stance uncomfortable. Carly crossed her arms and tried to hide her face.

"God, I can't believe this! What are you even doing here?" Her words were meant to be filled with venom, but they came out like limp noodles.

"You know your party's too wild when Jamie hears about it. She texted me right away when she found out it was here." Ah, so his sister had tattled. Carly's eyes narrowed – Jamie wouldn't do that! Would she?

"Jamie had no right!" Carly didn't care anymore who was watching. She was fed up with Grant Rogers and if they were going to have it out, then they were going to do it right there and right now. He needed to learn his place.

"She did so! I come in here to see you with that –and what you were doing- and he and you- do Mr. and Mrs. Stark know about this?"

"God Grant, we weren't doing anything! We were playing Uno for Christ sake! And for your information he was actually nice as far as drunk guys go. And of course they don't know -they're still in Paris until tomorrow!"

"What do you mean 'doing nothing'? You obviously weren't doing-"

"THAT'S IT, PARTY'S OVER!"

Instantly Carly's mouth dropped open in horror and shock. She spun wildly at Grant and rage filled her chocolate eyes. "Grant Rogers you little weasel! You snitched on me?" She accused hotly, watching his face go slack with shock.

"What? No I didn't – I promise!"

But Carly simply looked at him with all the hate in her body and he froze in place, undeniable sadness in his beautiful eyes.

"Get the fuck out!" The words of Tony Stark rang through the house like a knife, instantly cutting off any and all chatter. He stood leaning against the dining room table, his arms folded tight across his chest and his face holding more anger than Carly had ever seen. He simply stared at her, unwavering even as half-naked teenagers sprinted through the house, pure terror written across their faces. One brave soul had the audacity to stop and take a selfie with him, to which he grabbed the phone and threw it out the window, shattering the glass and terrifying the kid who turned to flee with the rest.

"Dad!" Carly screamed, standing her ground in the masses of moving bodies. Grant cleared his throat.

"Carly, he's just trying to-"

"Didn't you hear him?" She asked venomously, "Get the fuck out." Grant's gaze instantly went to his shoes.

"I'm sorry," he tried.

"Leave!" Her screech made him flinch, his shoulders sagging as he ambled past her and out the door.

When everyone had left they simply stood there, staring at each other with wild emotions. Minutes passed as Carly counted away the seconds in her head, the longer the silence lingered the less angry she got and more fearful. Tony wasn't the quite type. He was loud and angry and eager to fight; Carly knew how to push all of his buttons. He should be screaming at her, breaking things, his face turning red with pure fury. Instead he just kept staring at her.

"Turn this goddamn music off." Carly was grateful to hear him say _something._

"I do believe that is my bad," a voice rang out above them and drew their attention, Carly's eyebrows knitting together at the sight of Roy Strange. He looked severely less drunk as he waved his hand and the music stopped and the fog and colorful lights simply vanished. His suit was freshly pressed and he wore it like a king, the front still hanging open and tie loose around his neck like typical Roy fashion. He leaned over the balcony of the stairs, almost as if wary to get any closer.

"Mr. Stark, I'm afraid I do have to take a majority of the blame here. You see-" but Carly knew he would never get away with it. Tony Stark didn't blame anyone but his daughter for any of the mess-ups that happened.

"Get out of my house." Such a simple sentence. Five words that struck pure terror even into the heart of the great Warlock himself. The underlying threat in her father's words made Roy duck his head. He only briefly made eye contact with Carly before he portaled himself away, and Carly almost thought she saw sorrow in his eyes. The boy sure did put on a great show. She turned back to her father.

They were back to staring at each other. He hadn't moved an inch. Carly mirrored his movements, leaning back against a pillar and crossing her arms – a defensive maneuver. Tony was momentarily shocked; he looked at her and all he saw was the hate he had for his own father all those years ago. But he had put up with her shit for too long – he was officially Howard Stark and Carly was Tony. His heart ached.

"What are you doing, kid?" He asked, his voice suddenly gentle and concerned. Carly scoffed and it hurt his heart.

"I don't see what the big deal is!" She threw words at him like ammunition. He couldn't believe it.

"You don't see what the big deal is?" He echoed standing up straight and letting his arms hang at his sides. She fought to keep still.

"You kicked everyone out," she pushed the blame onto him and Tony had to fight not to laugh. He had done the same thing at her age. No, younger. "It'll be all over the tabloids."

"I'll pay them to keep their mouths shut. Not the first time you've forced my hand like this. A waste of money, if I do say so myself." No response from her.

"You broke that kid's phone."

Tony shrugged. "I'll get a new one." He could sense the issue growing larger and larger, one of them was about to burst. Did she really think Tony had a problem with the party?

"If Grant wouldn't have been a big bitch and tattled on me-"

"Grant wasn't the one who told me!" Ah, so he would be the one to trigger the explosion. Suddenly they were both screaming.

"Don't lie to me!"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Lie to you? Believe me, I wish Grant called me right away! But look, you've managed to sway even Cap's kid into following your little game of trying to piss me off."

"It's not like I tried! I wish Grant would just leave me alone!"

"Right, because Roy is more your speed?"

"Roy's stupid and selfish!" Carly screamed, then shook her head. "Don't change the subject! If Grant didn't tell you than who did?"

"You live in a house guarded by A.I. Who the hell do you think told me?"

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" Carly couldn't believe it. Whatever rage she had in her body instantly multiplied tenfold. "So what, now you're using the help to spy on me?"

"Do not call her 'the help'!" Tony roared, taking a step closer to her. "It's a damn good thing she did too because this was way out of hand young lady."

"Oh don't try to parent me now!" She spat, causing Tony to stop in his tracks.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He wasn't yelling again, which made Carly even angrier. She smoothed down her hair with calm ferocity, standing tall and strong as she stared down her father.

"Hey – I asked you a question." Classic Tony, always getting what he wanted. Carly fought away the tears.

"It means you're never here. Not for me, not for Mom – where is she, anyway?" It was an honest question, but Tony didn't see it like that. He saw it as a threat, the way he saw everything as a threat.

"You know she's on a business excursion." His hard voice made her give a sarcastic quip of laughter.

"Ha, funny. She seems to have one of those quite frequently." Tony's face hardened and he looked so angry again, angrier than ever. She knew how to upset him, hell she was one big disappointment to him, yet she had never seen him like this. She wanted to cave in, to forgive him like she always did and hug him and for them to order a pizza and eat ice-cream while watching a bad movie like they always did when they fought. But there was something in the air tonight and Carly wouldn't back down. It was a now or never kind of time.

Tony, however, forced himself to calm down. Hadn't he learned by now that she just did this kind of stuff to upset him? He'd guessed for a while now that she hated him, but it was never verified until this exact moment. Something behind her eyes that looked just like his. Hate without a reason why. His face relaxed a fraction and his heart burned like nothing else.

"Carles-"

"Don't 'Carles' me!" Carly wiped furiously as a tear slipped down her cheek, Tony yearning to reach out and hug her.

"You've got to stop this." He tried to reason with her, to get her to see the absurd things she was doing. But everything he thought about saying would just be a repeat. No matter how many times he found her with some guy, doing something illegal, something a sixteen year old girl should never even think of doing…she never wanted to listen to what he had to say. That he knew it was his fault because she was just like him. That he was sorry.

"Why?" Her broken yet still harsh voice brought him out of his thoughts and into reality.

Tony was about to speak again but she cut him off.

"Why won't you let me do anything?" She was crying now, but still so stubborn that she wouldn't let him speak. The tears were cascading down her cheeks like a waterfall.

"You keep me locked in here like a caged animal. I can't leave – I don't go to school-"

"It's dangerous," Tony whispered.

"Shut up!" She screeched making Tony purse his lips. She took a deep breath and continued. "I just wanted to have fun! For once in my life I wanted to be a teenager!"

Tony couldn't handle it anymore. "You think this is fun?" He exclaimed. She let out a sob.

"No! Okay? No, I don't think any of this is fun! But it sure beats being home alone all the time!" Her confessions startled Tony. But then it just made him sadder because, no, he didn't think it was fun when he did it either.

"Then why, Carly, why keep doing it?" He reached out, barely placing a hand on her shoulder before she violently turned away.

"Because I'm so sick of you!" She spat, "And mom! Who is never here, not even when I do stupid shit like this!" Tony's eyes closed, his whole body overpowered with emotion. He didn't have time for this, yet he knew this was where he had to be. There was never a question in his mind that he would fail as a father.

"I keep hoping," she continued, gasping for breath between the tears, "that one day you'll just get so sick of the parties, and the booze and paying people to keep quiet….that you'll just get sick of me and let me leave."

"Let you leave?" Tony asked, his mind still trying to wrap around her words.

"I do everything I can to piss you off; just hoping that _something_ will register in that daft brain of yours and you'll realize that you've done all this for nothing. You've spent hundreds of millions of dollars just to lock away your disappointment of a daughter in hopes that she'll embarrass you just a little less."

"Is that what you think?"

"It's what I know."

"You're wrong." Carly scoffed again and waved him away, turning to leave.

"Whatever."

"You're wrong," he repeated louder, but she kept walking away. Tony fought down a panic attack, his heart rate increasing with every step she took. No, he would not let her walk away. He was Tony fucking Stark and he would let his daughter control him no longer.

"Scarlett Maria Stark get your ass back over here right now." She froze in her spot, refusing to give him the satisfaction of turning around.

"I don't give a damn about these parties that you throw. I don't care that you hate Grant Rogers and hang around with Roy Strange, I don't fucking care because at least I know with them you'll be safe! I mean, goddamn, look at yourself kid! What the hell are you wearing?" Carly's hands involuntarily tugged down at her skirt. "I know I'm a shit father, okay? But I'm trying! I'm trying, okay? You've got to give me a little slack," Carly turned around at this, venomous words in her arsenal, but Tony gave her a glare that kept her quite.

"You think it's easy?," Tony asked, spreading his hands out. "Look, I have no idea what the hell I'm doing. And I know you hate it here, Carly, I really do; but I don't care! Because it keeps you safe and I'm sorry but that's all that matters. You have the best teachers in the world, yes you have to have internet classes but at least you're learning. You live in a house bigger than, well a lot of things but that's not the point! – you just don't get it."

"You hate me." Anger flashed in his eyes.

"How could you even think that?" Tony sighed and pinched his nose. "Look, I've had to deal with a lot of shit, okay? Keeping you safe is the single most important thing in my life because you are my life. Carles you are the greatest thing that ever happened to me and there are people everywhere waiting to end your life. I'm a shit father, I'll be the first to admit it, but you haven't exactly made life any easier."

Carly sniffed, refusing to meet his eyes. She could see that her tactic wasn't working. Not that she believed a thing he said. She needed a new angle.

"Mom hates me."

Tony rolled his eyes. "She doesn't hate you. The two of you just don't get along because…"

"Because I'm too much like you." Silence. It's funny how the truth holds enough power to shut two Starks up.

Tony's phone rang and suddenly Carly was aware that it had been ringing on and off the whole time. She sniffled again.

"You might want to get that."

"We're not done talking," Tony protested, his hard, defensive eyes so filled with anguish and pain. She rubbed at her tears.

"I'll call someone to clean everything up tomorrow." She said. She walked back to the stairs.

"No, _you'll_ clean it up in the morning." Carly shrugged.

"Fine, whatever," she whispered, climbing the stairs.

"Carles," she stopped halfway up the stairs, her back facing him like stone. "I love you, okay? We'll figure this out…" She said nothing. "I'm sorry," he called gently after her, causing her to flinch.

"Just go," her hoarse voice barely reached him before she continued up the steps and Tony jumped when her door closed. He let out an anguished groan and swept the bottles and cups of alcohol off the table in sudden anger, just wishing, somehow, there could be a way to fix it. But his phone was ringing and he knew the importance of it; that was why he came home. He had no idea about the party or anything of the sort; he just wanted to see Carly before he went on his merry way to possible death.

So he pulled a Tony Stark and put on his sunglasses, closing the door gently before he left.

Carly watched him leave from her window; she had changed into sweats and held a pile of Kleenexes in her hand. As soon as he got into his fancy car she leapt from her spot and ran to a room facing the back of the house, throwing open the window and disappearing into the night.


	3. 216 - 8m 22d Post

**Earth 216**

 **Eight Months and Twenty-Two Days After Invasion**

* * *

Early morning dew dripped down the branch and onto his cheek as he made brief contact, bright gleam winding into his face at the cool touch. His alluring blue eyes gently closed as the serenity overtook him, the wind flowing through his tousled hair as he continued to move in perfect stillness.

There was no noise around him less the constant drawl of his board's wheels traveling across the pavement and his quiet breaths. He counted them like seconds in his head; his foot made quick contact with the ground before he was stable again; his mouth still smiling, his eyes still closed, and the patter of the wheels on the ground – but faster.

He knew these streets like they were an old friend – it had taken him but a day upon introduction and then they rode hand-in-hand together in the morning's darkness.

Turn left.

His body swayed to its inner rhythm, his hands laying claim to the pockets of his unzipped sweatshirt as he effortlessly weaved around corners and through former glory. He didn't need to open his eyes to see what was around him; he knew the gray sky like an uncle; the cracked streets like a father, and his board like a brother.

He knew that the crumbled buildings towering around him would be empty just as he knew where every brick fell and glided around them. When Tori had first come to New York all those years ago, the gigantic skyscrapers had felt mighty. The people were like fallen angles and the air he breathed so easily tasted like answers. The power circling around him had been quite the intimidation, but after each visit, no matter how many years passed, the charade fell away and the city of freedom quickly turned into a prison. The move to New York had not only broken his spirit, but his heart as well.

The more he became known the more he became hated; jeers from the wicked had caused more desperate pleas to his mother to return to New Mexico, and when that didn't work, angry demands to his father to return to Asgard. He felt like a caged animal; defenseless yet viewed dangerously. He felt poked and prodded, like he had no freedom in all the nine realms. But most of all he was lonely. His already long years felt stretched out on Midgard, the people quickly aging but _his_ face never changing. No matter how he had viewed New Mexico, New York was tenfold worse.

All those years spent in the desert state when he longed to be on Asgard; kicked out for reasons that he hadn't understood until the invasion. Yet still he wished to be free and back with his father, two soldiers fighting whatever battles needed to be fought – to be won. Like this one. But what was victory? – If ever now it was a question he spent countless moments contemplating.

He knew that was where he belonged – out with his father and all the vast glory of faraway planets and wanderlust eyes – whether his curse permitted it or not; that was where he longed to be. He got just the briefest taste of it as a child; the hint of adventure side by side with his father as he learned to fight, to kill. Countless nights out under the stars, never needing anyone else and always being happy. But then he was flagged by confusion, his very heart sore with sorrow as he was sent back to Midgard, the very place he was taken from as a newborn; his birthplace and the home planet of his mother. He had visited her over the years, he had tried to be a good son, he had paid plenty of homage to her, yet still he was cast out; abandoned – a story only too painfully familiar to the Asgardians above.

And still, he could not return home.

He became unaware of how fast his body was now propelling down the streets, his path winding and forming an invisible labyrinth. Images plagued his brain and distracted him, emotions of anger, fear and loneliness stalked his heart like a lioness. A wheel caught on a branch and forced his foot to come slamming down, sending the skateboard up into his arms. He stood in place and trembled for a few moments, white knuckling the hard surface of the board as he fought for control.

Finally his nostrils flared with caught breath and his eyes opened slowly without focusing. Like a mirage a shadowy figure appeared down the street from him, frail skeleton hugging the broken wall of the corner building. Her beautiful gracefulness danced in front of him like the breeze, sending her hair on a journey in the wind. A circus, he remembered, dancing with her as the elephants blew their trumpets and the sky said goodnight to the souls below.

His eyes blinked closed once more and opened with new found fever, the skeleton morphing into the girl who so often haunted his mind, his gaze sweeping up her skinny legs and across her outstretched arm until they found her nimble fingers secured around a lose brick. His breath caught in his throat, a smile brighter than the soft morning glow lighting up his face. His eyes snapped up to hers, unbelief meeting uncertainty.

"Rayne." Her name was a whisper on his tongue, floating to her like a secret. The board slipped through his shaking fingers as he ran to her, the promise of two lovers reuniting sighing from every molecule throughout the universe. His breathes came out as excited gasps as he cried her name, watching that small smile form on her thin lips.

As soon as he made contact his hands wound themselves into her raven hair, his body crushing hers in embrace. His head rested in her neck, his soul burning for more of her scent. Her cautious arms wound themselves around his torso in familiar bliss.

"Tori."

Her broken voice sounded like silk to his ears. His heart felt like it had never beat faster in his entire life. He leaned back from her, her arms falling limp to her sides as he caressed her face, searching her dark eyes for something he didn't know. Despite her unsmiling face he was ecstatic – happy enough he could have sang the ballad of Heaven from the broken rooftops.

Her skin was ever so soft under his touch, his thumbs rubbing gently on her cheeks in happy bliss. Strands of her silken hair stuck to her glossed lips – lips he so longed to touch but didn't dare lean into. She stared into his eyes with her familiar hesitation. He could see the longing she so desperately hid behind her fear and insecurities. His grin faded into a small smile, his brown locks falling into his face as he couldn't help but shake his head.

"Rayne – what – what are you doing here?" He asked with a breath of laughter, and she pulled out of his grasp and grabbed onto the building again. She looked past his shoulder as he spoke to her, fearful of meeting his gaze – or anybody's.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, hanging her head and letting her face be covered by locks of darkness. Tori stepped forward and brushed them away, this time shaking his head for a different reason as his arm fell back to his side.

"You're sorry?" He repeated, still trying to make her gaze. "What for?"

"I wasn't sure you wanted to see me. _Here_." It was like she simply refused to speak louder; uncertain of what noise might wake those few survivors or the monsters that loomed above. Tori gave out a laugh that quickly fell into silence when he realized the lack of her joke.

"What are you talking about?" He demanded calmly, itching to hold her but forcing restraint. "Rayne I've invited you to come here for years; I always want you with me." He closed his mouth to unwanted words, re-thought, and proceeded, "You turned down my invitation to _Asgard._ "

Rayne took another step back from him, her bony arms securing themselves around her thin body. "I didn't know if the offer was sincere." It was like Tori couldn't stop shaking his head. Her gentle voice threatened to break with every syllable.

"What do you mean you didn't know it was sincere?" He reached out for her again but she shifted away. "Rayne, let me hold you," he pleaded, and she looked past his shoulder again with tear-filled eyes.

He retracted his hand and pursed his lips. The earlier refreshing wind returned and blew their hair around, except now it felt cold and unwelcoming. Rayne shivered. Tori immediately stripped himself of his sweatshirtt and handed it to her, walking towards her with firm determination when she refused to acknowledge his existence. He helped guide her arms through the sleeves and pulled the blue fabric over her shoulders, his hands lingering as he fought to be the center of her attention. He moved his hands up and down her arms when she shivered again.

"Hey," he said, leaning into her line of sight, "Hey." Bingo—their eyes connected and now it was like she couldn't look away. She was trapped in the icy blueness of his compassionate stare.

"Of course the offer was sincere. It always was and it always is." He spoke the words like a promise, sealing it with a gentle kiss to her forehead. Her vacant eyes proved that she still disbelieved him, even through all the kind gestures and gentle words throughout their years together.

"Tell me why you think I don't want you here." His soft voice snapped her out of her moments spent in daze, her lips quivering silently as she played with the sleeve of his jacket.

"I thought you might like to see me here. You know… instead of you going all the way to New Mexico." She shook her head, putting a hand to her forehead. "I'm so stupid."

Tori's lips twitched with concern as he reached for her hand and secured it in his own. "You think I've got another girl in New York."

Her sideways glance secured his guess and she tried to pull her hand away but Tori wouldn't allow it. He became a vice.

"Rayne why would I even risk inviting you to New York if I had someone else? I'm not _that_ much like my father, you know," he always tried to lighten up her darkness with humor. Usually, it worked, but her murky eyes remained saddened even as he twirled her around much to her reluctance.

"Trust me Rayne, I don't need anyone else. You are my best friend, my lover, my _soulmate_." He pulled her into his chest and rocked their bodies back and forth to a steady beat.

"Now I just feel stupid." A sheepish smile perched on her lips as she became more comfortable with the situation, glancing up slightly to see him grinning down at her. Just seeing his bright smile - the way his eyes crinkled at the corners – made her want to melt. Blood rushed to her cheeks faster when he laughed and everything immediately became right in the world. But how would she ever tell him?

"You're not stupid," he assured her, studying the gently curving angles of her face, admiring the familiar details that had never changed throughout the years.

She knew him too well, however, and her dark eyes filled with concern. "Tori, what's bothering you?" She knew he always got upset when she doubted herself, doubted _them_. But this was something different – she could see it in those beautiful eyes. Eyes that looked stunning to everyone, even her, but only she could see the sadness that sometimes found home in them during the most unfavorable times.

He shook his head, but she wouldn't let it go. She forced their bodies to stop swaying, forced him to bite his lip in annoyance and stare her down.

"Rayne, there's nothing wrong."

"Bullshit." She crossed her arms, the breeze gently blowing her floral dress around her legs. Then she reached for him, ever so hesitantly, her hand cupping his cheek with soft ease. His eyes closed as he leaned into it, caving immediately. She could feel the strong movement of his jaw as he spoke.

"I want to go home." So he had been thinking about Asgard again. He didn't specify which home he was referring to, but she didn't need him to. Tori had only ever had one home, and he had been unfairly ripped away from it. It was funny, long years to her felt like the blink of an eye to him, but surely any moment would feel longer when you are away from something you love. She swiped her thumb across his cheek.

"That's why your father's here," she reminded him, "He's going to take you home." His eyes snapped open in anger, and she knew what was to come next.

"Yes, that's just great. I complain and whine about wanting to go home so Father comes to get me except now he's trapped here, too." He took her hand away and it began to shake.

"Tori-"

"No, you don't get it!" His despair was overwhelming. "You think he deserves this? He should be out in the stars, saving lives and being a hero! I should have just kept my mouth shut, what's a few hundred years here on Earth, anyway? A good son wouldn't have brought his own father into the same prison; a good son would have-" He had turned away from her and stopped mid-sentence, his whole body suddenly on edge. The grey light around them had shifted since they had reunited, the sunrise now coming into full effect.

Perhaps he was aware of how much his words had hurt her. Maybe he heard her soft sniffle and was trying to find the words to consult her. Maybe he had realized that, even though a hundred years to him meant nothing, it was her whole life and he promised to be a part of it.

Or maybe something shiny had captured his attention.

Just for the briefest of time it appeared in the corner of his vision, a flash of blue and purple – silver? – and then it was simply gone. At once Tori was ready for the next appearance, if there was one – there always was—and the faint metallic bands around his wrists transformed into long twin daggers with a simple movement. Asgardian magic glowed blue around them.

"Rayne, stay close to the building." His voice was stiff and commanding, but still held his heart. She took a shaky breath and backed up until she hit the wall, her eyes widening with newfound fear.

Tori's careful eyes took in every detail around him, so careful that he could almost see the vibrations in the atmosphere. He did a slow sweep with his body, twirling one of the knives in a circle. At first he saw nothing and was prepared to escort her to safety, but then another flash appeared further away this time, disappearing quicker than the first one. Tori's eyes narrowed.

"I don't think it's a Stinger," he said slowly, melting his blades back into tattoos and holding his hand out for her to take. She did so with shaking finger, cold and sweaty against his strong presence. He squeezed her hand lightly without looking at her, leading their path along the road to where the brief colors had appeared. He walked around the area slowly, waving a hand in the air only to find it empty. Their previous conversation forgotten, Tori spoke to Rayne without visual connection.

"Get my skateboard," another flash, this time milliseconds longer. "We have some weird lights to chase."

Her clammy hand stayed within his, only letting go when he personally regarded her and repeated his directions. She let go to go wander in the grass for it, constantly checking over her shoulder for signs of danger.

Excitement grew deep in his chest as his eyes frantically searched for confirmation. If this was what Tori thought it was –if it was really, _finally_ happening—well, he knew it was poor timing but it had meant that the message got out. Someone heard it, someone was coming, and they were going to have help—

The smile instantly wiped from his face and was replaced with horror. If this actually was what he thought it was, well, he and his father were stuck on Midgard for a reason. _It's too dangerous._ He took a forced breath, the supply of oxygen somehow unwelcomed. He forced himself to relax, to keep a level head. He needed confirmation before jumping to conclusions, yet something at the back of his brain already knew what he would find.

Suddenly Rayne was next to him, pushing the board into his hands.

"Tori-?" She asked.

He cut her off. "Where are you staying?"

She brushed her hair behind her shoulders and motioned to one of the only remaining buildings left in the city. "At the safe house with the rest of the survivors, why?" She hated when he got all weird and distant. It made her feel self-conscious.

"I want you to get there as fast as you can. The sun's almost up now; tell them to stay inside today." His words were rushed as he suddenly turned to her and grabbed her shoulders, his eyes wild and wandering.

Rayne, still hurt by his previous words, stood frozen in fear. "What's going on?"

Tori heard the soft fear in her voice and stooped down to place a hurried kiss to her forehead. "I think something very bad is about to happen." They shared a few moments of deadly silence before Tori placed his skateboard on the ground and turned to look back at her.

"Now go."

She immediately rushed forward, towards the other broken souls who had managed to survive this far and who somehow still manage to keep hope. She set off to become messenger of unspeakable danger.

Tori watched her for a few insufficient moments, wanting to smile for just a few more seconds before he had to careful, brave, and _heroic_ again. So when she disappeared around the corner his smile vanished and he pushed off, his mind automatically routing the quickest way to Avenger Tower.

It was a bit ironic; the tower still stood tall, a beacon of hope even though they had failed almost everyone. And even now, what? They kept the invasion on the very outskirts of Midgard, the only think standing in their way a thin, invisible barrier that still allotted few handfuls to come through. What hope was there left to have? Tori didn't want to spend the rest of his life trapped here; defending the people that still seemed to hate him.

It didn't matter. None of it did – even if he lost hope he wasn't going to take away from others because it had helped so much back when he still had it, back when he lived in New Mexico and went to the circus every day and prayed to go home.

The sky was a brilliant orange as he wheeled his way to the tower, thankful that the sky would be sufficient contrast to the dark hues of blue and purple he so badly dreaded. _The sky is like fire,_ he thought absentmindedly, yearning to stop and watch it but he couldn't. He wasn't completely uncaring and immature like he used to be, and he hated it. No matter how much he changed, nobody would ever let go of his past. He tried to give up caring but had since come to terms with the truth; he had always cared.

The whole time he kept seeing flashes of color, his face slowly hardening until it was pure concentration, Tori traveling as fast as he dared, eager not to be too late. _I will not go down like this._

A large purple and blue circle appeared in front of him, far larger than any of the others and far too close for Tori to safely evade. He dove to the side and tripped over his board, skidding across the asphalt, skidding to a halt mere feet away. His bruised and bloody body caused him no noticeable pain as he rushed over to examine it, casting careful eyes upward.

"Go away!" He screamed at it, waving his arms wildly and throwing rocks at it. But with each stone he threw he was only more and more certain that this was happening. A small part was tempted to cry out in glee—they had been heard after all! But mostly he had just wished this was all a dream, a nightmare inflicted by a bad meal or anything else. Each rock sailed into the large opening and vanished, swallowing everything he threw into it with violent misery until it closed and Tori was left standing there with rocks in his hands, tears streaming down his face.

The tower wasn't far away from where part of Tori died. One of the wheels of his skateboard was damaged form the fall so he had to run, tucking it away securely under his arm.

He burst through the doors savagely and up to the main floor. Some of them ought to be gathered there, he concluded, pushing the elevator button with mad impatience. It was the slowest ascent he had ever experienced.

"There's a portal!" His words were out of him mouth before the doors even finished opening. Suffice to say, all the attention was on him. But Tori couldn't seem to find the words anymore as he looked around.

"Where is everyone?" He had expected the majority of them to be gathered around, getting their rest and meals in before they took their next shift. As he glanced around he counted four.

"There's been an inexplicable increase in Stinger attacks today," Jace offered, his tone grim. Tori swallowed heavily.

"I don't think it's quite so inexplicable," he admitted.

"Explain." The voice came from Clint who was leaning over the corner, coffee pot in hand. He looked worn out and faded like usual, but Tori had never seen him so _old_. Nevertheless he was the first person to offer to help look for the portal when Tori got done explaining. The others were stuck in shock.

"That means it worked!" Sam spoke up from his place sprawled out on the floor, various ice packs placed gingerly around his body. His red, white and blue uniform was still attacked to his body, but lay in rags.

"Leave it to Cap's son to miss the obvious," Jace grumbled, glaring angrily at the taller blonde. Tori often laughed at how much Jace hated Sam yet they could pass as brothers; both were attractive blonde haired, blue eyed men with undeniably sharp features.

Clint snapped his fingers a few times. "Focus. This isn't the time or place to bicker you two."

Jace gave an innocent grin. "But pops, it's how we get our best work in."

Clint, who had been gathering his supplies, nearly snapped an arrow in half. "Be lucky you a _ren't_ my son you narcissistic little asshole," he grumbled, glaring the young adult down.

"Wish I was, though," he shot right back, giving a smooth wink. Tori was pretty sure Clint was going to burst an artery.

"Guys, I'm serious," but he was laughing. Tori missed the little moments like this, everyone trying to be normal for the sake of emotion; times when they joked around because if they didn't they would cry.

"Alright ,alright," Clint huffed with a nod and stopped throwing broken arrowheads at a cowering Jace. Sam sat up with a pained expression and breathed heavily.

"Where do we find this portal?" He asked, their attentions all being drawn to Cat out on the balcony as she knocked on the glass.

"Found it!" She shouted, moving so they all had a perfect view of the shifting opening behind her, blue and purple dancing with each other like lovers.

"Cat, get away from there!" Sam shouted, racing to stand up and protect his girlfriend. He turned back wildly to the rest of them. "What are we supposed to do?" It was the obvious question; there had been no warning. They all cast glances to the sky. Tori turned towards Clint as Sam quickly got Cat inside. Her wandering eyes returned to the portal.

"I have no idea," Clint answer, but Tori could see his mind was racing. Maybe he did have an idea, in fact, Tori was almost sure of it. Clint never liked to lose lives, if he was going to plan something risky he would do it himself.

"Clint-" Tori warned, knowing that the archer's age could catch up with him any moment, but he was quickly cut off by Cat.

"Something's moving," she spoke almost quietly, like she was confused.

"They're getting antsy up there," Jace had walked toward the balcony to get a closer look at the sky. Tori could tell without getting closer that there were more swarms than usual. Jace opened the door outside.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" Tori demanded, taking a step forward. His skateboard dropped as his blades appeared.

"If someone comes through, we've got to get them inside as fast as possible and deal with answering the pointless questions later, right?" Tori could tell that everyone was reluctant to agree that he was right. Jace raised his eyebrows impatiently. "Right?" He asked again, the door still open and precious seconds ticking away.

"Just do it!" Clint snapped, standing rigid beside Tori. Jace grinned, walking outside to meet the visitors.

Cat had been right—the colors were shifting at a rapid speed that made it seem like something was moving. A dash of silver emerged and submerged, Jace's back facing those safe inside.

The first one to emerge was tall and blonde; his face narrow and close together. He seemed shocked to see Jace standing there, but the shock quickly subsides into unconsciousness as Jace pounded his fist into the ground, sending a an electric shock so powerful it sent the rest of the visitors cascading through the portal and closed it.

They all stared at the unconscious bodies, stuck like statues in pure awe.

"Let's bring 'em in," Clint ordered.


	4. Part One: 312 - Pre

_**PART ONE: REDEFINING**_

 **Earth 312**

 **Pre-Invasion**

* * *

Carly found herself walking up a familiar trail. She couldn't stop crying, much to her own disdain, constantly wiping her nose and eyes with crumpled tissues. She miserably swatted the mosquitos away, the thought of turning back never crossing her mind.

She was a Stark and by golly Starks do _not_ give in. They are stubborn and immature and downright annoying, but they are not cavers. So she trudged on, barefoot and scared, headed up the worn path behind her house— _prison_ \- and into the trees.

* * *

Tony burst through the doors to the facility and power-walked the entire way to the conference room. When he was there he threw that door open too and was met with grim faces and angry words.

"Tony, what the hell, man?" Sam was the first to greet him, followed by choruses of similar complaints. Tony nonchalantly raised an eyebrow behind his darkened frames, pointing to where Sam sat, feet propped up and arms crossed.

"Get your feet off my table, Wilson. I don't know how many times I have to tell you –"

"Uh, Tony, this isn't really the time—" Peter stood up from his chair, but Tony still saw him as a kid.

"He's got to learn, Parker, it isn't my fault he doesn't have any manners. I guess Cap didn't raise him right." It was typical of him to do this, to hide behind his words. He'd be attacked by all sides but he wouldn't let it show that it bothered him, no he'd just instigate further. It was meaningless – it took no effort. It allowed his mind to wander, close off any loose ends and focus on the now. The more words that came spewing out of his mouth, the more time he had to get his shit together. Right now, he needed a _lot_ of time.

"You think this is a joke?" Sharon obviously still wasn't used to him. Tony couldn't recall them spending much time together – Pepper wasn't really a fan, which was funny because Tony could point out many similarities.

He put on an angry face. "No, I think he needs to get his feet off my damn table!" He was met with several groans and eye-rolls.

"Man, come on!" Sam slapped his hand on his leg and glared Tony down, making him crack a smile. They were so easy.

"Sam, just do as he says." Cap spoke up from the corner, his chin resting heavily in his hand. It irked Tony that he still looked like he did the day they met; young, spry, a natural leader. The rest of them had aged more than anyone cared to admit, but he and Thor, man they just stayed the same. Sam rolled his eyes and lowered his feet. "Tony, we've been calling you."

"Yea, I know," Tony said flatly, walking around the room. "I was in Paris, you know, enjoying some time with the Missus." He turned and pointed to Steve, pursing his lips. "I'm sorry, are you bored?" He mimicked resting his chin in his palm, confronting the rest of the room. "What gives?" He loved the way everyone's eyes followed him.

Steve wasn't pleased with his antics but he did look around and slowly sat up. "If you know we were calling you, why didn't you pick up?"

Tony gave a shrug. "Got tired of it constantly going off so I—" he snapped—"threw it out the window. Has anyone else noticed how annoying those things are?" He stopped circling the table and picked his spot between Nat and Strange. He turned to her.

"Hi, how are you?"

"Tony, I really don't think this is the time." Her voice sounded flat and cautioning, but Tony could easily recognize the amusement dancing in her dangerous eyes.

He nodded to her. "Right, right, my bad." He looked over his shoulder at Stephen. "Nice facial hair." Peter had to hide his laugh in a cough.

"Tony, this is important." Tony gave a sharp nod of his head and spun around to face Steve. _The guy never did have a sense of humor._

"Hence why I'm here," he smiled innocently, watching the divide slowly spread amongst the group; those that were growing increasingly infuriated with him, and those with hidden smiles and unknown need for his tomfoolery. Tony had a knack for causing rifts.

"Tony." Boy, they sure loved to say his name. He recognized Stephen's voice and turned to face him. "We're ready."

And then so was he. Immediately his face fell, his hand coming up to slowly remove his sunglasses and reveal his tired eyes. His vexatious demeanor shattered away in broken pieces as he rubbed at his jaw and felt his shoulders slump ever so slightly.

"How soon?" It was always a question of time. Back when he made his first arc reactor; how long would it power his body?—when it started to kill him; how long until it finished the job? The human species was conditioned at birth to fear only two things; falling and loud noises. Everything else they learned to fear based on environment, but Tony often questioned if the fear of time itself might be a third primal instinct. No one would ever have enough time. No matter how they planned, prepared or organized, upon the arrival of death they would always be left wanting more.

Stephan got a taste of what it was like to be timeless—back when he had the Eye of Agamotto and everything was simpler. He would just carelessly – because that's what they were back then– insert himself into time and announce how to conquer their current demon. But then Thanos had come and they were all so cocky and then they were all so desperate.

No one came out of that undisturbed. They had lost so much family; because that's what they were. No one lost friends or acquaintances, they lost brothers and sisters. Tony lost his sense of security and Stephen lost control when the Time Stone disappeared.

"T'Challa's installing the rest of the Vibranium as we speak." Steve's words seemed to trigger the finality of what was about to happen. The whole group became more fidgety, countless glances down and baited breath.

"And Thor? Where is he?" Tony tried to be the least phased. He'd done some pretty moronic things in his lifetime including flying into a wormhole to blow up an alien invasion, so what the hell was going through one little portal? The more Tony thought about it, the more he realized they had the same stakes; he might never come back. The only difference was that it weighed on him more now that he had Carly.

"Loki's spawn escaped again, so he's out looking for the little weasel." Clint gave a light smirk. Tony raised his eyebrows.

"He brought the kid?"

Steve looked at him with sympathy. "We all did. Thor didn't think Ozur should be left out and we all agreed."

Tony forced a smile. "Right." He rubbed at his face again, wanting nothing more than to rest his eyes for a bit. "Well, we're all set. Go say your goodbyes; I'll meet you at the entrance." Everyone seemed to get the clue – well, everyone except for Natasha. They filed out of the room slowly, knowing it would be the last time they would see each other for a while. Natasha stayed sitting even as Tony let out a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, clearly trying not to become emotional.

"Where's Carly?" He knew the question was coming. Quite frankly, he was glad it came from Natasha if it had to be asked at all. He puffed his cheeks and tried to give her a lively grin, but it turned out more sad than anything.

"Ah, you know, being rebellious, doing everything I would have done at her age." He pictured it; his mother and father leaving for the airport, the last time he saw them before their fatal crash. Before their murder. He had been just as audacious, just as spiteful as Carly was. And, oh, how he regretted it for every moment afterword.

A lonely silence filled the room, Tony staring blankly at the ceiling as Natasha left him alone with his thoughts. She had become the team's support system, oddly knowing just how to be the right source of comfort during each's time of need. She had known Clint the longest, of course, but then came Tony, and with him she learned that for a man who liked to talk; what he really needed was someone to sit in silence with. She got up and walked past him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Go get her, Tony. You know you'll regret it if you don't." He shook his head.

"We're ready to go. Our problems will have to wait until I get back."

"Thor's not even here yet. Besides, you're Tony Stark." She patted his shoulder and left the room.

He tried to imagine it, what would happen if he ignored what his very being was begging him to do and let the last conversation he had with his daughter be a fight. Could he really leave her with the impression that he hated her?

"God dammit, she's right," he said to an empty room, standing up and leaving the premises.

* * *

The path opened up to a small pasture on a cliff overlooking miles of trees below. Instantly the fear melted away and Carly sunk into the small wooden bench with sob. She had used all her tissues on the walk up and thus resorted to wiping her nose on her sweatshirt sleeve, sniffling and sucking in breathes like an infant.

Her hand traced the bench in old habit, back and forth over where Tony had carved their names into it the very first day they had moved here. She remembered it vividly because she was reliving it now; she had thrown a tantrum about living so far away from society and stormed away from the house. Her and Pepper had both been upset by the move, but it was the ever so worried Tony who found her lying face down in the grass, crying and refusing to budge. So he had picked her up and carried her back down to the house where he told Pepper to order a pizza and then he was gone, back down to the workshop to construct his next idea of what safety met.

But it had turned out differently that time. Tony had resurfaced after dinner, calling her sweetly to him and smiling. He had looked so foreign to her then, and even now she wondered if her memory was constructing the very way he had looked, detail for detail, or if it was too outrageous of a thing to even process. Her dad had been lighter that night, free of whatever daily burdens made his shoulders droop so low. Carly had drawn a picture of him the next morning – Tony floating in the air as they all watched in awe below – but he wasn't home. Along with so many other drawings, Carly ripped it up and told herself that she had imagined it. Over the years she told herself that very thing so many times that she started to believe it.

Tony brought her back up the makeshift path, telling her what a good find it was. He didn't yell at her for running away, didn't scold her or tell her to be careful. On the cliff he didn't worry. He was happy, the genuine kind of happy that erased him famous smirk and put a real smile there instead. The real kind of happy that made his eyes crinkle and his words sweet, the real kind of happy that made him construct a wooden bench, a simple surprise for his beautiful daughter, and carve their names into it under the stars. The cliff became a magical place then; a place where Tony was king and Carly was princesses; and Pepper was their queen.

They would have picnics here once a week, every week and her and Tony would race and be carefree and this was where she could study her father, and his weird, happy face, and try to commit it to memory before it stopped. Before everything stopped like she knew it would. She grew up; she wasn't a little kid anymore. Pepper became distant and the business became her world. Tony's face stopped being happy when he came up here, yelling at her to get back inside. So he had stopped coming, and then so did she because it had lost its magic and now it was dark and broken like everything else.

"That's a beautiful memory," Carly's head whipped about as part of the rotted bench gave way under her hand, the hair on the back of her neck rising in alarm.

"Who's there?" She called, rising to her feet and realizing how cold and numb they were against the hard ground.

Something moved in the bushes and she jumped, raging terror cursing through her. A shadow stepped out, a tall lanky boy with an ageless face and haunted eyes.

* * *

Roy ducked his head out of the door and whistled to the others. Just in case it wasn't obvious, he called out. "All clear!"

"Thanks, dimwit," a low female voice answered him as Jamie turned the corner, the others in tow. He gave a brief salute and held the door open as they filed in, locking it behind them for good measure. He stood watch in case the adults figured out what they were planning and waited for the others to get over the shock of the room's contents.

Sasha whistled. "It's bigger than I expected." Shay stared at it with slight fear and grabbed his hand for comfort.

Jamie tapped her foot impatiently. "Come on, they're going to be on to us soon. Let's get this show on the road."

Grant was wide-eyed. He still wasn't over the events of the night and the portal machine certainly wasn't helping. He placed a firm hand on the cold metal, shivering lightly.

"Relax, T'Challa and his crew just left. All we have to do is step through and ta-da, we're on another Earth in another dimension." Roy gave a wild grin. From the first moment he found out the old timer's plans and told the others, he wasn't even fazed. Quite the opposite he was excited, never having a doubt in his mind that _he_ needed to be the one to go through. He would be ready for whatever danger awaited.

"All I have to do is turn the thing off when you get through, right?" Grant asked from his dazed spot next to the colossal machine, his blue eyes wide as he tried to process it all.

"It couldn't be simpler," Roy stated, "I've been watching them put it together. All you gotta do is flip a feel switches and stand back. Even you couldn't mess it up." His grin was sly as he glanced out the door window again, catching Sasha's eye and winking.

Grant didn't seem to hear him. He had turned to his sister and begged her with his doe eyes. "Don't go." Jamie rolled her eyes in embarrassment and glared at the younger male.

"Grant, the decision has already been made," she reminded him firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Now don't be a baby and let Roy show you how to operate this thing." She nodded over to where Roy stood by the controls, his place by the door being taken by Shay and her husband. Grant turned back to her.

"He already knows how to work it, let him stay back instead!" He didn't want to give up; he couldn't stop feeling this emptiness in the pit of his stomach warning him that something bad was going to happen. "Let me come with you," his pleads where that of a whiny boy, not that Jamie ever saw him as anything but her annoying little brother. She gave out a sharp breath of a sigh.

"Grant, enough. What's done is done and you're not coming with! Besides, as much as we all hate to admit it – Roy is the most powerful of us here. We'd be stupid not to take him." She flipped her brown locks over a shoulder, giving him a small shove away from her.

Roy shot them finger-guns.

* * *

"So you just spend your days traveling around with Thor because you have no idea where your father is?" They were sitting shoulder to shoulder in the grass, Carly hugging her knees to her chest and Ozur leaning back on his hands.

He made a face and nodded. "More or less, yea," he agreed, taking a glance at her. "No one ever told you any of this?"

Carly gave a short laugh. "No one ever tells me anything." Her bitter voice resonated deep with him as he gave a low chuckle.

"Yes, me either." He tapped his temple, sharing a brief look with her, "Which is why I have to resort to reading minds."

Carly's eyebrows furrowed. "But you said you have to touch someone to read their mind," she reminded him of what he had told her only minutes earlier and suddenly became very conscious of their shoulders pressing together.

"Yes but you were sitting exactly where I was moments before. It took great concentration, but I could feel a thought forming in your mind and I tugged at the loose string, so to speak." She nodded her head in understanding, though she couldn't begin to.

"Oh," she said lamely, "cool."

* * *

Tony's driving was rather reckless. _Screw it,_ he thought as he blew another red light, _they can send me the bill._ There was only one thing on his mind as he stepped on the accelerator, honking at cars as he swerved around them. After his brief conversation with F.R.I.D.A.Y. and finding out that Carly wasn't at the house, he had gone mad with worry and all other cautions went out the window.

He thought he knew where she might be. He _prayed_ she was where he thought she was but with everything that was going on and with his luck, God only knew.

"Fuck!" He exclaimed as he slammed on the breaks, veering into oncoming traffic and barely avoiding an accident. The tires spun on the asphalt and left dark trails as he sped away, trying the house number one last time.

* * *

"This one?" Roy wanted to smash his face into a blender. He pursed his lips and turned to Jamie who simply gave him a shrug.

"No," he groaned with strained words, "the one that says _on_." He pulled at the short strands of his platinum hair, knowing Grant was just stalling for time. He glanced back at Sasha who gave him a thumbs up signaling that the coast was still clear. _But it wouldn't be for long._

"And then?" Roy asked impatiently.

"And then the portal opens and I flick the off switch when you're all through." Roy couldn't hold himself in anymore. His hand lashed out, striking Grant at the base of the skull.

"Roy!" Jamie scolded, holding back a laugh. Roy held his hands up in apology and glared daggers at Grant.

He rubbed the back of his head, dejectedly giving Roy the answer he was looking for. "And then I go over to the control panels and make sure the levels are reading well and everything's going fine. When that's finished I activate the portal and when it's stable I give you guys the all clear. You all go through; _I_ stay behind and close it when you're all safely there. When the adults get here I'm left to explain what stupid thing we just did and they'll figure out how to retrieve you so you can report back what happened and everyone can properly work out what to do next." He gave a sigh, his gaze wandering over to his sister.

"Be careful over there."

* * *

Tony pulled into the driveway and was ready to launch himself up the trail just as two figures appeared from it. He was confused to hear laughs and giggles as he rolled down his window.

"Carly?" They stopped talking and slowed to a halt, but she was spotted. Her red hair was as wild as her eyes, her mouth open in shock.

"Dad?" She took a step forward and looked behind her at Ozur who gave a shrug, but he looked slightly bothered.

"Get in the car," he called to her and his voice rose again as they both started walking. Carly was always amazed at how quickly the anger seeped into his words. "Not you Space Boy, just her, thanks. I'll call Thor and let him know where he can find you."

"You've got to be kidding me," Carly snapped, coming to a halt beside her new friend. Ozur didn't say a word, only looked less than impressed and took a seat on the house's porch, resting his head against a pillar. Carly bit her lip and ran a hand through her fiery locks, standing defiantly next to the house.

"Get in the car!" Tony's warning voice quickly turned demanding and Carly huffed. Hadn't he had enough of this tonight? For a lifetime? She was prepared to stand her ground again and refuse, claim that the only way she would get in that car would be over her dead body – though an argument could have been made for kicking and screaming – when Ozur decided to see that moment as his time to speak up.

"Go on," he urged her, a gentle smile crossing his features, "What if it's important?"

"It's never important," she grumbled as she trudged forward and reached for the door handle, because, what if it was? She sat in the back.

They rode in uncomfortable silence for a long time. Carly recognized the drive to the facility easily from where she sat with her face pressed against the window, her head thumping against it every time they drove over something in the road. They were more than halfway there before Tony decided to speak up. He had been looking forward and giving the wheel a death grip since they had left.

"Are you trying to kill me, kid?" Carly gave a loud groan and fell over in her seat. The fabric was cool against her skin as she let the silence soak in, but she knew he would just bring it up again.

"Well obviously it's not working," her words were muffled by the soft leather of the seats but Tony heard her anyway.

"I see you've met Loki's son, and you seem to like him – go figure." His sudden change in subject shocked her.

She sprang up so fast that her head hit the roof. "What's that supposed to mean?" She demanded, wide-eyed and furious.

"Don't think I haven't notice that you've got a type. I mean, I heard girls marry their fathers but I never thought I was t _hat_ bad."

"Dad!" She didn't know what to do or what was going on. How could he be so aggravating and embarrassing at the same time? She paused. "Wait, are you laughing?" He was! It was just a light chuckle, Carly didn't even know if he meant to or not. He certainly didn't acknowledge it.

"So, we're running away from home now?" He wouldn't give up but at least he was beginning to calm down. _Stark's don't cave,_ she remembered. Maybe that was a bad thing, maybe they should.

"I don't want to talk about it." It was new territory. She eyed him warily, wondering what his reaction might be. She could imagine them all. _'Don't give me sarcasm, kid.' 'What, are you dying or something?' 'Well too damn bad because you don't really have a choice.'_ What she didn't expect was for Tony to cave as well. _It's like the domino effect._

"Fine." That one short, beautiful word nearly gave her a heart attack. She opened and closed her mouth, staring intensely at the back of his head and she came to a simple conclusion; for the first time in her life they had ran out of thing to say. They had pretty much covered it all – sure they could word it differently, or maybe they hadn't _outwardly_ said it and it definitely wasn't over because it never would be, but the yelling and screaming and fighting was over for now. And then, because if miracles were already happening what was another one?

Laughter. Her dad was actually laughing, not big and loud like he used to and definitely not with much gusto but it sure was contagious.

"If pepper where here she'd be pissed." Was that what was so funny? Carly looked at the empty seat in front of her and imagined her mother sitting in it, legs crossed, lips pressed together, the blistering fires of hell trapped in her blue eyes.

"She'd tell us to knock it off," Carly decided, her own laugh bubbling up under her skin and suddenly she burst like a balloon. Tony watched her from the rearview mirror, his quiet chuckles fading into a gentle smile.

"I'm sorry, kiddo." His words cut through her laughter like a beam of hope. She caught his gaze in the mirror and matched his calm small.

"Yea, Dad. Me too."

And just like that they were good. Nothing was forgotten but all was forgiven, at least for now and until it was brought up again, as they both knew it would be. But they were both done being mad, being so angry that the only thing they felt was white hot rage and disappointment. Tony was done making his daughter cry and Carly was done feeding the fire. They settled into a brief yet comfortable silence as Tony turned the radio on for a quiet backdrop.

"So, moving on to more important stuff; why aren't you wearing shoes?" Carly snorted as she glanced down at her dirt-ridden feet, wiggling her toes in entertainment.

"It's a long story," she told him, though it really wasn't. The waves had just settled and she didn't want to start anything up again. She struggled for something to keep the conversation going. "Why are we going to the facility?"

She was met with silence. For a moment she wondered if she had said something wrong, going so far as to even be mad at herself for ruining the moment. Having an actual conversation with her father, if she what had just happened even qualified as that, was something that happened once in a blue moon. She was sad to see it go so soon, but that slowly filtered into confusion when she saw he was back to gripping the wheel with an iron grasp, his face like hard stone and his eyes filled with raw emotion.

"We need to talk."

* * *

Everything was ready. Roy and Jamie were situated where the portal would open; itching for that sense of exhilarating danger that so often fueled them. Grant was ready to throw the switch as soon as Sasha and Shay joined the others. Sasha shared a glance with his wife, knowing how scared she could get but ever so grateful for her bravery. It was one of her many great qualities that he absolutely loved about her.

"Ready?" She whispered, her eyes searching his as he nodded to her.

"We're doing the right thing," he knew he was trying to convince himself. She had been so ready to volunteer to go with when Jamie had visited them and explained everything. She had took into consideration everything they had to lose and decided to go for it – that was how he knew it was the right decision. _Sasha, if we're going to risk all of this, imagine what they've already lost to get to the point of sending out a distress signal across different dimensions._

He took a deep breath, casting one more glance out the door before turning and – he did a double take.

"Carly?" He walked back over to the door, looking through it and then back at all the expectant faces. "Carly's here," he said, bewilderment displayed clearly on his face.

Roy's head snapped up as everyone fell into quiet shock. Carly was just about the one person they hadn't expected.

"Well?" Roy demanded, shifting his weight, "Let her in!"

Sasha raced for the lock on the door, opening it just as Carly reached to knock. She entered calmly, giving them a small wave.

"Hey guys."

Grant shied away from her, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as she was greeted weekly by the others. He wished with all his might to be invisible.

"How did you know we were here?" Roy asked, motioning for Sasha to close the door again.

That's when he saw that she had been crying. In fact that's when he noticed that she hadn't really stopped crying; the puffiness of her cheeks and her swollen eyes said a lot. The only thing he was confused about was why she wasn't wearing shoes.

"Dad filled me in on what's going on—the portal, their plan – everything. I figured I had an easy shot on where to find you guys." Her words were filled with pain as she stood before them, wiping her eyes angrily. "T'Challa had agreed to go instead of Dad but Shuri fell sick and it's not like he can just abandon his nation," she had started a slight ramble but her words stuck in their hearts. "He has to go because he's the only other one who can remake the portal from the other side if something goes wrong, if-if they can't get it back open from over here."

Roy had been slowly getting closer to her, inching as if he would scare her if he made any large movements. As soon as he clasped her hand in his own, gave it a gentle squeeze, her eyes snapped up to his.

"Why did you guys never tell me any of this?" He was amazed at how badly he wanted to blame it on everyone else. He would have done anything to stop her from looking at him like _that_ , like he was going to take her whole world away. He dropped her hand. Because that was the truth – maybe it wasn't his fault directly but he didn't do anything to stop it and none of them told her the truth.

Jamie came to his rescue when she gave out a slight shrug and inspected her nails. "You're not really part of the team." It was the harsh truth put out in the open for them all to see. It wasn't Jamie of course; she loved Carly like a sister though they had hardly met a dozen times. Jamie was good at taking the blame. She never really let it bother her because it felt better to _be_ hated than to deal with someone you love being hated.

Roy cautiously turned to Carly. He could see an astounded Grant in the distance, disbelief that his sister would say something so rash and disrespectful. She nodded her head, running a hand through her hair and tangling the strands further.

"Right, sorry." Roy longed take it all back. It wasn't her fault she wasn't part of the team, she had her own family stuff to deal with. He had never judged her, never done anything to purposefully harm her. He just wanted to see her smile, though she always took it the wrong way. He stared at Grant's feet and frowned.

Nobody said anything for many long seconds before Carly spoke up again. "They're all talking in the conference room again. One last quick debriefing before they get here. We should go now."

"You are _not_ going," Shay was the first to voice what they were all thinking. This angered Carly.

"And you are?" She demanded, her fists clenching and her gaze switching over to Sasha. "You both are? How could you even do that to her?"

Sasha couldn't meet her gaze. Shay squared her shoulders and tilted her chin up. "We're doing this because of her. Winter's a big girl, she'll be fine."

"She's seven." Carly looked at Roy and Jamie for backup but they couldn't look her in the eyes either. They had all come to terms with their choices, Carly would have to learn to be okay with that or deal with it anyway. "It's bad enough that one of you is going, what if neither of you come back?"

"Carly, that's enough." Jamie put both of her hands on the younger girl's shoulders, squeezing tightly. "You're not going because, whoever's fault it may be, it's basically a promise that whatever's over there is incredible dangerous and Tony has done a divine job keeping you safe. We can't promise that for you on the other side, especially if you can't defend yourself."

Carly looked completely dejected. "Then what do I do?"

"Start the portal!" Grant suddenly spoke up from his place by the controls, the gears turning rapidly in his head. "You can be the one to stay behind and explain everything to the rest when they find out."

"Grant-!" Jamie rolled her eyes but he cut her off with more words.

"No, Jamie, listen! You guys will probably need more help over there. You won't be able to get back out until Carly or someone opens the portal again so you might need me over there." He looked at each of them in turn, daring someone to tell him he was wrong. No one could because he wasn't; he was making perfect sense.

"I'll do it." Carly nodded to him as he gave her a sheepish smile, going over to stand next to his exasperated sister. Roy clapped his hands and grinned.

"Carly Stark to the rescue." He was quick to grab her arm and drag her over to the controls where he found that she learned much faster than Grant, though he hadn't exactly been trying.

"Right, got it." She muttered to herself, flipping the switch and scanning the screen for readings.

"Hey, Carly," Roy knew this was going to be goodbye, at least for a little while. He really hoped his dad wouldn't petition against reopening the portal, it seemed like something he would do to teach Roy a lesson. His brain raced for words as everyone gathered across the room. Her chocolate eyes scanned lines of code, her fingers tapping the screen in urgency.

"Huh? Oh, yea, bye," she muttered distractedly, biting her lip in concentration. She had never really done anything like this before, so it took everything she had not to mess it up. Roy stared at her for a second before nodding his head.

"Yea," he echoed. "Bye."

With a few more screens tapped and buttons pushed there was a flash of color in front of them, but it quickly sputtered out as Roy took his place by the others.

"What happened?" Grant asked as it occurred again, beginning to blink in and out of existence at a rapid pace. Carly was pursing her lips as they all waited for her.

"Beats me," she answered, her eyes squinting as she looked back at them. "Everything's good form this end. My guess – interdimensional travel is a lot easier on paper. Just give it a sec."

So they waited, and Carly was right. A portal opened in front of them in all its blue and purple glory, a few rocks and pebbles flying at them as they ducked.

"We've made contact with the other side!" Roy declared as they all laughed and hollered, but it was short-lived as the portal blinked out of existence.

"Well shit." Roy stood up from where he was crouched gathering rocks, a rather disappointed look on his face. No new portals were appearing. "Carly?" He called.

She wiggled a few switches. "Hold up, let me try something." She went over to the power source, examining the wires and random bits of scrap. "This thing is a piece of shit," she called out, returning to the controls and upping the voltage.

When a new portal appeared they all glanced at it warily. It seemed to be stable, for the most part. Roy gulped and took a step forward, pushing his arm into it and taking it back out, everyone relieved to see him uninjured.

"Well, no more rocks," he joked, flashing everyone a grin. "That's got to be good, right?"

Carly let out a sigh of relief, releasing the breath she didn't know she had been holding. "I'd go before it closes," she warned, waving them off with a painful smile.

Roy was the first one to go through. "Geronimo?" He winced, gritting his teeth before fully committing and swan diving in. Jamie took a running start to get over her nerves. Sasha and Shay grabbed hands and went in together, leaving Grant and Carly by themselves.

"I'm sorry," Grant started, but Carly just about had enough with apologies.

"I'm great at being a disappointment," she smiled at him warmly, "because I don't know anything else."

"I'll see you soon, Carly," he held her gaze another second before he too disappeared. Carly reached for the control panel, ready to shut everything down when a bolt of lightning came racing through the portal into the room, frying the machine and sparking out the lights. She dove for cover as the glass shattered in a flash of brightness that temporarily blinded her before she was left in complete darkness.

She pulled herself to her feet and brushed the bits of glass off her clothes as she turned to the doorway and was met with the angry face of Tony Stark.


	5. 216 -

**Earth 216**

 **Eight Months and Twenty-Two Days After Invasion**

* * *

Roy's whole body felt fried. He felt like a computer as a sharp plume of oxygen powered his body on, his muscles spasming and jaw clenching. He found it hard to draw in breaths after that, his eyes peeling open and focusing on the hazy figure above him.

"Fandral?" His voice slurred as his eyes squinted together, blinking rapidly to restore sight. A tall, looming figure slowly came into focus, his intense blue eyes peering into Roy's soul and making him quite uncomfortable. Strong, lean muscles outlined his body, wavy brown hair tousled and wind-strewn atop his head. _Hey, that's not right._ Roy had seen pictures of the legend that was Fandral and this imposter in front of him was basically identical and - _was he carrying a skateboard?_ He groped behind him for the wall, using it to help himself stand up. "Say, aren't you supposed to be blonde?"

"Actually, I do believe you are referencing to me." Roy's head snapped around to see the exact same man, only blonde.

"Wow, I must have hit my head pretty hard," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and opening them again. Both men still stood there, towering over him a good eight inches.

"He makes funny faces," a female giggled, and Roy had to lean his head against the wall to keep it from spinning.

"Appreciate that," he commented, pinching the bridge of his nose. _Okay buddy, you need to figure out what's going on A-SAP._ He tried to focus, on anything really, but it was like his brain had shut down. He couldn't remember anything after stepping through the portal besides a blinding light and intense pain…

"Was I struck by _lightning_?" He asked incredulously, stumbling towards them with weighted steps. "God. Dammit. What-the-hell," he cursed as he tried to lift his feet, but it was like he had lost all control of his body and he either stomped them down with too much power or failed to pick them up altogether.

All three of them were laughing now. Roy summoned on his magic, hoping for spectacle of such grandeur that they would awe and applaud him, but instead his ruins fizzled orange for a brief second before completely sputtering out. He flicked his hands a few times and tried again, but he could manage nothing. They laughed harder.

"Don't worry if you can't get it up," the female teased from where she sat atop the corner, her bobbed hair swaying as another laugh shook her body. "Jace's strikes tend to do that."

Roy was insulted. This wasn't an issue of 'getting it up'—it was an issue of just having it! He was becoming increasingly wary.

"And when exactly do the effects of 'Jace's strikes' wear off?" He questioned, meaning to tilt his head menacingly but it lolled to the side.

"Long enough," Roy noticed that Brunette Fandral was having no problems getting _his_ up. He leaned casually against the wall Roy had just been hugging, twirling the sickest blades Roy had ever seen in his hands. Each one glowed a faint blue color and he was instantly intrigued. It was like an alarm dinging in his head. _Shiny! Shiny! Shiny!_

Brownie must have noticed his interest in them because the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk.

His mind worked slowly, his mouth open and ready to speak, the words just not flowing. Finally, he managed to come to their obvious conclusion.

"You want answers." It was like running Windows 10 on a Pentium II. _Error—does not compute!_

Brownie shrugged. "We just want to know one simple thing." He was a nice little – _er, large: very, very large_ —fellow. He seemed to notice Roy's struggles and didn't make him work too hard to come up with the right conclusion. "We want to know why you're here."

Now that was a nice question; something Roy could easily answer. "We got a distress signal. We knew you were in danger."

The twins shared a look – were they twins? Roy kept glancing back and forth between them. He was still mildly convinced that they were the same person and he was just imagining it all, but then he noticed that the girl's gaze swept over all t _hree_ of them and that meant that she also saw two Fandrals. Great, at least he wasn't completely crazy…unless he was imaging her, too.

"When did you get the signal?" The OG Fandral asked his question rather forcefully, causing Roy to shrug with another confused look.

"I don't know – a couple days? A week, tops." He caught the surprise flickering across their faces, though they were quick to hide it. He nodded his head in approval – these guys were pretty good.

"Because," Fandral-imposter began, "we sent that signal out nine months ago."

* * *

Sam hated to be away from Cat. He hated that his entire body ached. He hated that every damn day was the same futile routine. Most of all, he hated that he was stuck out here babysitting the other visitors while _she_ was in there, away from sight and sound.

A door clicked and the short white-haired teenager walked out, a perplexed look spread across his pale face.

"Roy!" Jamie leapt from her spot on the floor, Jace also rising to his feet in cautious watch. Sam tuned out the rest as Cat stepped out last. She was filing her nails, her expression bored and impatient.

She had been the light in his darkness through the whole thing. As horrible was it was to say, Sam was glad that the invasion happened. Without it, he would have never encountered Cat and Jace, fighting for their lives, just waiting to be saved. He and Cat would have never fallen in love and – and a lot more people would still be alive. He knew he should feel horrible for thinking this way. He should be overcome with guilt every time a thought like this crossed his mind. The thing was, he felt none of those things. He felt lucky, if anything, to have been there to save her and see that look of gratefulness in her eyes. The rest was history – recent history—but history nonetheless.

He shook his head, the buzz of conversation growing louder in his ear with every passing second. He should pay more attention.

"So, alternate Earth, I got it. There's Fandral, and Clint who seem to be the same, but different children…which is…weird…" Sam could see that Roy was feeling better with every passing second. He had been the last to wake up probably due to the fact that Jace's bolt had hit him first; he probably took in most of the damage. Sam had been on the other end of one of Jace's lightning strikes before – he was amazed at how quick Roy was recuperating.

Fandral had declared that all of their stories matched up perfectly, every minuscule detail fitting in line without hesitation or suspicion.

"Hey, it was weird for us when we found out, too." Tori was right there to reassure them. Sam rolled his eyes and sighed quietly. The guy was always willing to give the benefit of the doubt, and sure that was admirable, but the guy was such a basket case. He found the weirdest people to surround himself with – Sam had heard word earlier that the circus performer had arrived this morning all the way from Tori's old town in New Mexico. He trusted too easily, that was the problem. It had gotten him into trouble before and it would happen again – just because he would outlive it didn't mean the rest of them would.

"Something not sitting right, Clint?" Sam called out over the other voices, drawing attention to the aging man in the corner. He was dazed and had this faraway look in his eyes, like something just wasn't clicking. Upon getting called out he waved his hand and gave a small shrug.

"Well, I don't think the gravity of the situation has quite hit everyone yet, that's all." A heavy dew fell upon their heads collectively. The married couple that had come through grabbed hands.

"Anything in particular you'd like to start with?" Sam prodded, staring evenly at the elder with his harsh blue gaze. Sam wasn't exactly fond of the guy – he wasn't exactly a team player. He lived his life on improvisation and was reckless and was basically everything Sam stood against. Tori was worse, but Jace was the worst.

"I'm just pondering," Clint continued with a harsh tone, "whether the message took nine months to reach them or they got it shortly after it was sent but something went wrong with their portal." He was met with confused looks so he gave another shrug. "What if the trip over took them nine months? Just a thought."

The look on Roy's face could have won an award. It was somewhere between shock and terror with just a hint of desperation.

"We don't know that for sure," Tori was quick to try and please them. A loud sigh left Sam's lips and Tori shot him a look which he met with equal ferocity.

"Can we have a moment to talk?" Jamie placed her hand on the younger one's – Grant – shoulder.

Fandral shot Sam a pointed look. "I think talking would be a great idea." Sam rolled his eyes and turned towards Cat only to find her gone. He then realized that Jace wasn't making a racket like he normally would and narrowed his eyes. He was nowhere in sight.

"Fine, I need some air anyway." He shouldered his way past Tori and left the room.

* * *

They were gracious enough to allow Roy and his friends some alone time. He figured they all needed some time to wrap their heads around everything. Roy didn't even know where to start.

He had found a cracked phone under some rubble in the corner of the room and found that it still turned on. _No bars._ Not even Wi-Fi. Roy sunk to the ground heavily, pulling his knees to his chest and holding the phone loosely in his hands. He stared vacantly at it, unconsciously tapping on the dial pad.

Everyone was quiet. Sasha and Shay were on the dirty couch huddled together, his arm hanging loosely around her. He, too, had hollow eyes. Grant was standing with his back to everyone, his shoulders square and his hands clasped behind him as he looked out the glass panels and into the broken city below. Jamie was throwing loose pieces of floor at her feet.

"Should I just get it out there?" Jamie's voice eased them all back into reality. Grant glanced back at her with a curt nod. "We took a risk," she shrugged, brushing her hands off. "We were prepared for danger and that was the plan. Now that there's nothing….we're stuck here until Carly or Tony or whoever can bring us back and we don't know how long that will take. It could be days for them and months for us – or it could be a lot sooner." Her eyes surveyed around the room, apologetic but still bright. "The best we can do is help these people while we're here; they asked for it. For _us_."

No one complained or disagreed. Roy had barely heard what she said; his eyes were glued on the screen. But she had been right; they were expecting to step into a whirlwind of danger. They wanted to fight and be warriors because that's exactly what they _weren't_ back home. Their Earth had no need to send out distress signals. Ever since Thanos, well the Avengers were a joke; a title given to those few with powers. The world hadn't been in danger for over a decade. This had been their chance to be _heroes._

"Roy, you're awfully quiet," his head perked up and he gave her a half-grin and a shrug. Their eyes met and a mutual agreement came between them. _You're disappointed. I know, I am too._

"What are you doing?" Sasha's rather cute accented voice spoke up from the silence. Well, Roy always figured it was cute; girls like accents, right? Especially if there's just a hint of it in there – Australian, that's what Sasha had. Grant turned around again, trying to get a good look at what Roy had in his hands. He waved the phone at them.

"It doesn't work." It seemed like such an obvious thing when he said it out loud. But, just for a moment, he had hoped it would've.

"Who would you call?" Oh, wasn't this a fun little game.

"Well, you, Jamie, would call your mom, which is more creative than Grant sending one to Cap which is just, ugh, typical." Roy was glad to see Grant give a slight smile so he continued. "Sasha and Shay would both pick each other, except they're both here so… Sasha would call Winter, or whoever's watching her so he could talk to her. Shay wouldn't go for their daughter though – it isn't about calling a loved one for her, it's about the best option, the _smartest_ option. You'd call Natasha because you've been trained not to trust anyone – not even her – but you know she'd be your safest bet. Your _smartest_ bet."

There was a lot of smiling and nods. Jamie gave him a slow clap. "We got ourselves a true Sherlock, folks!" Roy looked at her with his blank expression and pretended to tip his hat off to her. "I do believe my actual question was who _you_ would call."

It was probably one of the hardest things he had ever thought about. His first instinct was to say his dad – who wouldn't reach out to their parent if they were an all-powerful Sorcerer Supreme? But he and his dad didn't really get along, yadda, yadda, yadda, Stephen would rather Roy rot a little in hopes he learn something. He wasn't close enough with any of the others to want them as last-hope-call. His only other option was Carly. It was kind of sad to think about; all those years pining after her and she basically hated him. He clicked the phone off.

"Whoever. Dad. Carly."

Grant sat down next to his sister. Jamie— _Ah, what a smart little lady._ He had no doubt she could see right through him, but she would never say anything to out him on it. He respected her immensely for this. Still, a question itched at the back of her throat. "What would you say to her?"

This seemed to trigger everyone's interest. They all looked at him so expectantly, waiting for some profound confession or whatever. Roy knew he couldn't answer honestly because he couldn't honestly come up with anything he would _actually_ say. Given the chance he probably wouldn't make the damn phone call anyway. Maybe he was the type of person to dial just to hear her voice.

"I dunno," he tilted his head back and forth, cracking his knuckles. "I kinda have to pee."

She laughed. "Unbelievable." In typical Roy fashion he had managed to make everyone smile as a calmness once again filled the room. He smirked lightly to himself and leaned against the wall. His body still ached, and there was this constant gross feeling like someone was rubbing their fingers up and down his feet. Beginning to think harder about it, Roy narrowed his eyes and tapped his fingers idly against the dark screen.

"Say, what emoji would you use for a bladder?"

It was an honest question; but they all took it rhetorically. _Ah, there goes silly 'ol Roy again asking stupid, dumb stuff._ That is, all of them except Sasha. Roy liked Sasha a real lot. Shay kind of scared him, but he guessed that she was used to that from a lot of people – it took a real scary lady to be trainable under the Black Widow. How she and Sasha ended up together was anyone's guess.

"The little water droplet things, maybe? You know, for, like, pee?" He had this real hopeful look on his face and a kind of smirk that hung sideways on his mouth.

Roy was sad to disappoint him, but it _was_ a rather teachable moment. "Nah," he shook his head with a serious look but amusement in his eyes, "You use that when you're about to nut."

"Roy!" Jamie burst out laughing and nearly fell over. Poor good-guy-extraordinaire Grant Rogers looked like he was going to have a heart attack.

"What?" Roy asked while sharing a cracked grin with his favorite Australian. "It's true! Someone had to tell him!" Sasha winked at him and gave him a thumbs up like a true white American dad would.

"The heart emoji? That kind of looks like a bladder." Roy wasn't sure who was more shocked between them all as Grant continued the fun. Jamie gaped at him as he huffed, looking rather offended at how surprised they were.

"Yea, with the drops after it," Sasha added as Shay smacked his arm, letting out a sharp laugh. Roy smiled to himself. This was how it should be; no crying, no arguing, no talking about what had happened and what will or should happen next. This was just good old fun.

His smile widened. "Because peeing is basically just the bladder nutting, right?"

* * *

Tori tapped his foot impatiently. He was fed up with this entire conversation. The fact that they even had to be having it was a waste of time – especially since it was three against one.

"They came," he pointed out again, desperately trying to get him to see the point. It was a beautiful thing, why couldn't he see that? The fact that they were late had little to no effect – they had already beaten the invasion. They were all so sour when nobody had originally answered the call. They knew it worked; there was absolutely no question about that.

"They aren't needed. They shouldn't have come at all." He couldn't see why Sam was so determined to make their arrival a bad thing. Sure, it was dangerous and now they were all stuck here – Tori couldn't even begin to explain how bad he felt for them – but it was like some sense of hope – or, no, it was _optimism_ – had returned. They had received the call and they had arrived as soon as they could; they have no control over time.

"It does not matter. They're here and they're stuck here until we can promise them a safe way back that will harm neither of these Earths." Fandral's calm voice instantly soothed Tori's sore attitude. He was so tired of sticking up for these people. Not because they didn't deserved it, because they did, but because it was his story all again. Sam should have realized that Tori would be their number one empathizer. He cast a glance at his father and they shared a brief glance before Fandral gave Sam one of his powerful grins. His smile radiated like a million suns.

So many people had told Tori that he could do the same – that he was an exact replica of his father. He could never, would never, grow tired of hearing mow much alike he and his father were. Especially with the invasion – Fandral the Dashing had quickly turned into a brilliant leader. It came as a shock to many people; but not to Tori. The invasion was a war and Fandral was the singular best warrior there was; of course he would rise to the top at a time like this. But that also meant that he had matured quite a lot too, and Tori knew it was for his sake, after all they hadn't seen each other in years and now they were reunited on the very planet that had ravaged them both. It was hard times for the both of them, but it somehow grew them closer and Tori was unashamedly grateful. Cat liked to joke around and say how they would morph into one Super-Fandral any day now.

"So let's get back in there and show our guests some hospitality," he was saying, making each word like a gift as he spoke. "It's the least we can do for them."

It was true. Clint had long gone quiet from being tired of repeating himself. He simply stood like a statue and the only thing that let Tori know he wasn't made of stone was the gentle nods he would occasionally give. Tori loved to watch Clint in his every-day life and admire how years of training shaped him; from the little tasks to making important decisions. He especially loved the way Clint could be so still and silent and yet be so undeniably clumsy.

"Nice of you two to show up," Sam's booming voice made Tori look up, watching as Cat and Jace slunk up to them. Their faces were agitated and cast annoyance in long, invisible shadows. Tori could basically see them stretching out, attacking Sam with their useless shapes.

"I didn't realize we needed your permission." Jace spoke everything to Sam like it was a challenge. Tori almost smiled to himself – it was amazing how many secrets you got told when you weren't liked. He glanced at Cat and she was quick to avert her eyes.

"We sent signals to the others so they'll know what's happening," Cat's soft voice cradled Tori briefly as it passed over him. Sam appeared next to her like shackles. That's exactly what Sam had done the very day they met – slapped on some cuffs and sentenced her to life.

There was happy laughter from inside the room. Fandral glanced towards it, his hands resting on his hips and ready to pull his sword at any time. He was always ready for a good fight. That was Tori's favorite quality. Not because he provoked it or because he liked to kill people, but because of the adrenaline and the sense of empowerment. Danger provoked action. Action kept things moving.

It made long years shorter.

"Well, they certainly do seem to be enjoying themselves. Let's go in." His father led the way with discrete swagger, that roguish grin never straying nor fading.

When they entered the room they broke the magic and the laughing stopped. They all looked on edge but sure of themselves and Tori found that quite interesting. He wanted to just stand there and study them but there were conversations to be had.

"I'm sure you all have many questions," Fandral began and no sooner did Roy nod his head.

"You bet your buns we do," he declared with grand emphasis, only struggling a little bit to be upright on his feet. Did he have some sort of advanced healing? Tori had been present when he produced some sort of orange fizzle, but other than that he suddenly realized that nobody in this room had any idea what pure, unattainable power they each possessed.

"I'm going to need more coffee." Clint waved them to continue as he cut straight through the middle of the room and into the kitchen.

"Oh, cool, so he's the same both places," Roy shared an appreciable nod with Jamie and took a step forward with a cringe. He looked at Jace with a weirdly constructed grimace. " _Seriously_ , dude, why does this feel so goddamn weird?" Jace was beaming.

"You have questions?" Sam crossed his beefy arms and tore his gaze through everyone. Tori wanted to applaud as each of the newcomers met it with blatant impudence.

"Right. The basic story is: you sent a signal and we got it and traveled through another dimension to get here, but ya' boy here destroyed that portal so we're stuck here until our homies back home get us…home." He made a face, turning to Jamie for help but she only shrugged with a smirk and left him to fend for himself. He huffed and turned back to them, grasping at the air with his hands like something might help him. "Everything's like the same….but not really," he summarized, looking expectantly at Tori and his team. Tori raised an eyebrow.

"Um, I guess?" It was pure absurdity that they were all taking this so well. Tori could see something behind their eyes – something not quite right, but it didn't give him the gut feeling that they were bad or untrustworthy people. In fact, he felt oddly at home with them, almost like it was destiny for them to meet. He was raised on stories of destiny and great tales of prophecy and legend. As a child, and even now, Tori had a great deal of trouble trying to discern one from the other.

No, Tori felt completely at ease with these people. It was something else that was bothering him – something he was determined to find out. Until then, he would accept them and that would be that. He was a big advocate for innocent until proven guilty.

"No," Sam's strong voice was quick to contradict Tori's. Nothing Tori ever did was good enough for him, no matter how hard he tried. Eventually, he just gave up and stopped trying altogether. _He can accept me for who I am or find a way to deal with the disappointment – they all can._ "It's actually a lot more complicated than that."

Roy's hand shot out and he pointed a finger at Sam while he stared directly at Tori. "Shut up, I don't like you, and no one's talking to you." Clint's laugh echoed loudly from the other room. Sam's eyes were blue fire.

Clint's head poked out of the kitchen, his lower lip stained with coffee. His eyebrows quirked up as he regarded Roy, "So…questions?"

There was a brief pause as Roy looked in wonder around the room and Tori watched as his eyes drifted up to the ceiling. When he realized Clint had been speaking to him he gave a sheepish smile. "Oh, yea, no, we don't really have any."

"You've got to be shitting me." Sam threw his hands up into the air, looking at Clint and Fandral and the rest of them like their brains had slipped right out. When no one agreed or disagreed, or spoke anything for that matter, he turned to Jace. "At least tell me you see this is all crazy."

Jace, who had been smiling the whole time, gave a strong shrug of his broad shoulders. "I like these guys."

"Fucking hell," Sam muttered. Cat went over to him and began whispering to him soft words like a purr. Jace's jaw clenched and Tori swore he saw sparks start at his fingertips. There would always be problems when two head-strong men determined to be leaders were told to be teammates. Tori tried to be as indifferent as he could, but Jace was uncaring and straightforward. He wasn't a fake person and that's the only way Tori knew he was free from his contempt. What bothered Tori most was that while Jace had stepped down once Fandral had taken lead, Sam continued to challenge every word. He had absolutely no idea of when to pick his battles – he could call himself a soldier however many times it took to stroke his big ego but he'd never be a warrior.

Jamie had taken an elegant step forward so that she stood behind Roy. She leaned to whisper something into his ear, to which he shot a reply back and it was obvious that whatever words he had spoken were not appreciated. She, too, held fire in her eyes, but unlike Sam's it wasn't angry or violent. As she looked up and made eye contact with him, he could see that the fire burning in her eyes was much livelier. It made her look determined and powerful and Tori became entranced in their wondrous beauty.

She shifted her eyes back to Roy and Tori watched her with great fascination as she pinched his arm. "Ow!" It quickly drew everyone's attention as Roy glared at her, rubbing the sore area and turning to the audience with reluctance. "We have a question." Everyone waited. Roy shared a silent and seemingly argumentative conversation with Jamie through several forceful blinks and glances. She held up her hand to slap him and he ducked with a glare. Tori liked to imagine what they were saying. _'In public, really?' 'You embarrass me.'_

"We know Sam's a cap baby—seriously, dude, how obvious could you make it." Sam's jaw clenched with such raw force that Tori feared he might break it. As comical as the current situation was to spectators like Tori and Fandral, Roy wasn't helping anybody and none of his peers were stopping him. Roy hooked his thumb in Tori's direction. "And Brownie here is of Fandral and Jace of Thor, but is Cat a daughter of something?" There was instant outrage and Roy ducked behind Jamie. "This is your fault!" He squeaked and this time she really did slap him. Tori assumed that Roy wasn't having one of his best days.

"I'm not Thor's bastard!" Jace was on his feet like lightning, electricity pouring out of his eyes like water. "I'll be damned if anyone says otherwise!" The lights flickered above them as Clint rubbed his temples.

"Chill out," he demanded, examining his cup with feigned interest. Jace's whole body seemed to flicker with raw power as he sneered and turned his back to everyone, his hands clenching and relaxing in a seizer-like manner.

Jamie's eyes narrowed. "That makes no sense," she replied calmly, raising her hands to show she meant no harm. Tori shared a glance with his father – they were stepping on thin ice that was guaranteed to break before they made it safely to shore. Roy was looking less than enthusiastic to get electrocuted again but he stood firm besides Jamie. Grant clenched his fists and waited for the fight; Shay bounded over to back up her teammates while Sasha watched from afar with curious eyes. Everybody was on edge and waiting for a fight – except for Jamie. She stood firm in the eye of the storm and let the chaos around her ensue. She wasn't going to back down, no, but she wasn't going to let anything unnecessary happen.

She continued, "There's no one else with abilities like that. If you're not a son of Thor, then who?" Her voice was calm and sounded almost concerned, like it was her last option to make him angry or upset. She was simply a tourist of their world, trying to gain access to whatever information would float her way. Tori looked at her eyes but they hadn't changed. _Fire, like a gift from the gods._

"They're mutants," Clint clarified as everyone tried to calm down. Jamie cast her fiery glance back to the others who all gave shrugs. Sam was trying to reach for Cat but Jace wouldn't have it.

"I'm sorry?" She asked. Tori's face narrowed. There was a long pause around them as Tori shared another glance with Clint, and then Frandral. Jace eventually broke the silence, Tori having to duck to avoid a stray branch of lightning that spun from his shoulder like a missile.

"He said; I'm a mutant," Jace spat the words at her like poison, turning around to get right in her face. "Me and Cat both are, so if you've got a problem with that—"

"No problem at all," she stood unflinching in his presence. Clint had been reaching for the boy but stopped, falling quiet as her calm demeanor floated around the room and embraced them. Their noses were almost touching. "We just don't understand what that means, is all." Grant was shoulder to shoulder with his sister, his face calm but his body rigid as if to say ' _mess with my sister if you want to die.'_

Jace laughed, right in her face. She clasped her arms behind her back and shook her head slightly as Roy and Sasha moved to stand beside her. Grant flinch but she quickly caught her arm and that's when Tori realized he was going to punch Jace. Jamie had just stopped all-out war and nobody would ever know any different.

"Jace," Clint called calmly but forcefully, grabbing his arm and stiffy pulling him away. They had a brief conversation away from everybody else before Clint let go of him and he lights turned back on with a powerful jolt. The rays casted a silver glow onto everyone, illuminating Jamie's face like the moon.

"You don't have mutants back on your Earth?" Fandral directed the conversation to a more peaceful note and even offered them a kind smile as if he were begging to understand them. Tori watched him work his magic, knowing full well he wasn't called dashing just because he could work the ladies. His hair fell into his forehead just like it always did when he was preoccupied with other tasks – it never stayed groomed for long. In a matter of seconds everyone was calm again and Fandral had diffused the bomb. Shoulders unstiffened and smiles returned. Everyone drew in a collective breath.

There was a lot of head shaking on their behalf. Jamie's eyes cast over to where Jace and Cat stood together as if it were them against the world. That's how Sam had found them and he had helped them despite their unwelcoming attitudes. Tori had understood; before the invasion the public hadn't been very open to their kind. Not that it had changed much since then; there were just less people around to judge. They were disgraced, outcast, forced to live under the streets and fend for themselves. "If we do, they are well hidden. I have never heard of such a thing."

An unnerving silence hung in the air like storm clouds above them. Never heard of Mutants? It was quite a shock to hear, especially given their history on this Earth. Tori glanced around, wondering who would speak first. Roy nudged Jamie as if to suggest she said something wrong.

"We are humans with genetic mutations," Cat's timid voice broke the remaining tension in the room. She looked uncomfortable as all the eyes landed on her, her dark eyes shifting from person to person.

"Evolved," Jace added with malice, causing Cat to tilt her head. He was standing right beside her now, shoulder to shoulder in the middle of the room. _Them against the world._

"Some think that way," she agreed, "though others do not. The truth is: we're abnormal –"

"Oh, please," Jace scoffed but Cat placed a gentle hand on his arm.

"We are," she urged, looking into his eyes. "Before the invasion we were not accepted. There were few places we could hide to live. There was this place in Manchester – a safe haven, but it was destroyed."

"We're the only ones left." Jace's voice was oddly soft as he gazed back into her eyes, looking up to see that Jamie and the others were still in the room. It almost gave him a jump, Tori noticed, like he thought they had all left. It was hard to tell, but Tori noticed that he almost looked broken, if being broken meant you didn't know what to do with yourself.

"In New York?" It was the first words Tori had heard Grant speak. He looked absolutely heart broken, like every word Cat and Jace spoke drove daggers into his skin.

"In the World." Jace put his arm around Cat and she gave a pained smile. "Anyway," she broke away from his embrace after a few stunned moments, "Each mutant had different powers." She looked back at Jace briefly. "He can control and emit electricity so powerful we haven't found something he can't break yet," she let out a brief laugh and glanced sideways at him. He crossed his arms with a begrudging snort, nodding his head as an afterthought.

Roy nodded sharply at her. "What can you do?"

She looked bashful as she stared down at her feet and refused to answer the question. Jace snapped his fingers to draw their attention and with a shark-liked grin he watched the electricity flow from finger to finger. It was if he were baiting them, drawing their breaths and hooking them before he delivered the answer they wanted. Jace lived for the attention.

"Let's just say; she's a beast."


	6. 4 -

**Earth 4**

 **Day 14 of Invasion**

* * *

 _It was the dead of night. It was the dead of night. It was the dead of night._

 _He had to keep reminding himself that as he squinted his eyes away from the harsh light around him._

 _Everything was on fire._

 _Granted, the sky had been on fire for what felt like eons. As he paused to catch his breath he counted the days. Had it really only been eleven? No – it was past midnight – twelve. But now, in the midst of it all, everything was on fire. Flames twelve feet tall leapt from buildings and scorched snake-like paths through the ground. It illuminated the world around him like the sun. It felt hot like the sun, too. He was sure he had burns on his skin; Tony had made sure the nanotech in the suits wouldn't fuse with their tissue._

 _Something heavy fell on his armored head. He glanced up, confused as another dark object swung from the ceiling and he spun out of the way as it barreled past him – the building was collapsing!_

 _He dove frantically for the exit, wondering just how fast fire could travel as the smoke filled steadily into the room. Nothing hindered his breathing except himself thanks to the suit, but his pounding heart and racing mind made sure he wasn't getting enough oxygen. Large, gasping breaths rose from his puffing chest as he pushed blindly through smog and felt the door._

 _He paused, remembering why he had entered the house in the first place. It had been a safe haven, one of the only things left standing that wasn't on fire or surrounded by monsters. The rising heat from it now made him panic but he turned back inside with tears in his eyes. Was it worth it? How much longer could he keep fighting? He had seen people die by the hands of those things and he didn't think that was how he wanted to go. He could just give up now – walk back into the flames and never return. At least this way he would die by his own choosing, a little less noble perhaps, but better than being eaten alive. His jaw clenched as his breath hitched, tears glossing over his chocolate eyes._

 _"I'm sorry," he whispered to no one in particular but rather everyone all at once. Visons of his dead family and friends haunted his mind and circled around him in teasing wait. He could join them now. All he had to do was think and – the head of his suit shifted open. The small particles slowly moved away like water amongst the flames. He held his breath for a few moments more before breathing deeply in – maybe he could flood his lungs with carbon dioxide and then he'd be long gone before the real pain would start and the flames would lick over his skin. Limbs fell down around him and walls started to cave in. He wasn't the cowardly son, why was he giving up? There was a brief moment of resistance in his eyes before it faded as he closed them, sucking in another long breath._ Let me have this one moment of weakness. Let it wash over me and take me away. _He thought of Howard in those moments, his smiling face and their mother's blue eyes._

 _With his eyes closed he could see him more clearly; hear his crisp laugh as he shook his head charmingly and offered out a hand._ It's okay now _, he said,_ I won't let it hurt anymore _. Another tear slid down his cheek but for a different reason now. He reached out to take Howard's hand and the corner of his lip twitched upward into a smile. Everything was going to be okay because his big brother said so._

 _"Tyler!" There was a scream behind him. Howard began to fade and he reached out desperately, trying to cling onto those phantom limbs. Then someone was grabbing at him- at his arms and legs and chest – desperately clawing and dragging him from his sweet death. His eyes popped open as his lungs were met with fresh air, the sudden roar of the fire deafening to his ears._

 _His burning gaze turned wild around him, frantically meeting with a pair of equally divine eyes. They were the younger eyes of his brother, Harley. His nanotech suit must have been running out, it covered only part of his mouth and cheek. He was fearful and afraid as he shook Tyler with angry concern, shouting at him and calling out for their father._

 _Tyler roared with anger, forcefully pushing the younger Stark off of him. He stumbled away as best he could; crying angry sobs when he found the building lay in rubble before him. He desperately tried to jump in, to melt away in the fire, but Harley had a hold of him again._

 _"No!" He screamed with a hoarse voice, using all his strength to break free but it wasn't working. "What are you doing? Let go!" He could feel Harley flinch with every word. He was scaring his little brother – terrifying him, but he didn't care._

 _"Howard!" He sunk to his knees in sudden anguish, turning his head to the blazing sky above him and searching for his face with all his might. "Howard – come back!" Harley watched with more terror than he had felt in his entire life as the chaos around him melted into the background and he watched Tyler call out for their dead brother. He looked around in fear, knowing that he had to get them both out of danger. But what would he do now? Tyler had always been more rational than he – had always looked out for Harley when he did stupid things. Tyler had never been the one to break down or show emotion about anything._

 _"Howard!" He howled at the sky like a starving wolf. Harley latched himself onto his brother, desperately dragging him to his feet._

 _"Tyler! We need to get out of here!" But his words were lost in the elder's ears, his mind far gone as he began to cry nonsense._

 _A Changer landed a couple yards away, no doubt drawn in by Tyler's rabid screams. Harley dropped his brother and let him sink into the ground again, watching as the creature cocked its ugly head and inched forward. Harley's heart began to race as he panicked, stepping in front of Tyler to protect him and firing a repulsor at it. He called for his father over the comms again – where was he? The creature advanced and dove for Harley, he meeting it halfway. They tangled on the ground and then it spurted wings and took them to the sky._

 _It's a diversion! Harley realized too slowly as he looked to the ground to see three more circling his brother and he crouched hopelessly before them, waiting for his life to be passed through their hands like a toy._

 _"No!" Harley screamed and blasted the head off of his first attacker, dropping to the ground and rolling to fire at the others. But three was too many. Excited that he fought back they pounced at him, crushing him with their ugly clawed feet and sharp jaws._

 _"Tyler!" He called hysterically for help, firing random blasts in every direction and just hoping that it would do something. He felt his body be swung upward and then he let out a gasp as sharp teeth pierced his armor and sunk through his abdomen._

 _"Tyler," he pleaded, what remained of his helmet shifting away to try and cover up the now exposed flesh. It was stupid of him, maybe, but he wanted the last thing he saw to be his brother. No helmet, no screen, just real life and real death. Blood trickled out of his mouth._

 _Tyler's head slowly raised, his eyes slowly focusing back on the world around him – too late. "Harley?" His voice was distant as he sprung to his feet, charging at the Changers. "Harley!"_

 _He took one down, and then two, but the third would not let go and there were five more incoming. "Let him go you bastards!" He screamed and screamed at them as he fought like he was invincible. They struck blow after blow at him but he kept going, kept fighting, the whole time dreading and hating himself._

 _There was a pure arc of light above him and then Tony was there, fighting side by side with his equally powerful son. In seconds the monsters were gone; obliterated to ash and dust and Tyler cradled Harley's broken body in his arms, his torso attached to his hips through thin strands of bloodied flesh and jagged bone. His eyes were open and glazed with fear. That had been his last emotion: fear. His mouth hung open with his final silent plea for Tyler's help._

 _Tyler wouldn't stop crying as Tony looked on from above them, unable to mourn his son or risk losing another one. His last one._

 _"I'm sorry!" It was Tyler's chant, over and over, as he looked from Harley's haunting body to his father in the sky._

"Tyler!" He shook his head, glancing up to meet Tony's eyes. Tony opened his mouth to say something but let it close gently as they made eye contact. Tyler rubbed away his tears.

"We're here," Tony said plainly and suddenly Tyler realized that the Quinjet had already landed. He sprung to his feet, eager to exit when he felt a hand on his chest. Tony gently pushed him back until they were face to face and stared him straight in the eyes.

"It's not your fault," Tyler's jaw clenched. His father wasn't always the best at showing emotion, but he could see Tony's eyes practically begging him to believe. He looked down at his shoes, dusty and dirty from days spent walking around aimlessly in all the destruction. Finally, he looked back up at his father and then forced himself to walk away.

"Yes it is."

* * *

Steve had come back to bad news. Day fourteen's mid-day wave had taken its devastating share of victims. Among the day's growing death list were Helen Cho and her synthetic healing cradle. It was the final blow that sent Steve over the edge. He had no choice but to set Fay down on an old medical bed covered with dirty rags. Her body had long since gone limp, what few medics remained urgently checking her vitals and body for the damage delivered.

That was where she lay now – crumpled up in dirt and grime and a pulse so faint it the machines could barely read it. She drifted in and out of consciousness every few minutes, at times aware and her usual self but mostly she just mumbled incoherently and screamed bloody murder.

He couldn't bear to listen to it any longer. The sound of his child dying shredded his brain. Parents would do anything to stop their children from hurting and Steve couldn't afford to be drastic, no matter how much he longed for those options.

Cal was too much like Steve for his own good. He had a lot of his mother in him, too, but all the mannerisms and ideologies of Steve. He butted heads with his sister a lot, but the two were still incredibly close; he had stayed by her side as soon as Steve carried her in. He had disobeyed the doctor's orders and clung to her pale hand like it would keep him alive, like _he_ was the one dying. Steve was ashamed that he had to wish he had done the same thing. No, he simply stood aside in shock as people busied about him, running and doing everything they could to save his daughters life. And he just stood there.

Maybe Cal was too pure for his own good. When Steve had turned and walked away from it all Cal had been by his side in a matter of seconds. No words, no emotions or glances; just a quiet companion on Steve's walk of shame.

* * *

Tyler and Tony were met almost immediately by Bucky as they stepped off from the ship. He was running to them like a speeding bullet, his face confused but filled with something Tyler could easily recognize. He had run out of it the very first day of the invasion when all the shit in the world had hit the fan. Bucky Barnes was running towards them with radiant _hope_ in his eyes. But there was something else, too.

"You guys are back," he stated, though Tyler guessed it was more of a question. It wasn't _'hey guys, what's up? Glad you're back!'_ it was' _why the hell are you here?'_

They only nodded silently. Tony went to speak but Bucky was already looking at Tyler.

"I came as soon as I knew you landed – it's Fay." The world slowed down as dread panned onto his face. He was only moderately aware of Tony's hand gently clutching his shoulder, pressing Tyler back into his chest in a comforting and embracing manner. When Tyler couldn't speak, it was Tony's turn.

"Is she…?" Tony couldn't finish his sentence, but it was okay because his words sounded miles away. His grip on Tyler's shoulder tightened but he could do nothing but blankly stare forward and wait with baited breath.

 _This can't be happening. This can't be happening._ He was the only other Stark who had ever experienced major panic attacks. They had started as a kid when he was attacked by the neighbor's dog. Since then Tyler tried his best to close himself off emotionally. Any big blow would land him shaking and trembling on the floor. His fingers twitched.

"She's alive." They were both still staring at him. Tony sighed in relief. "She's in bad shape though."

"We should go see her." Tony patted Tyler's back and looked expectantly at his son who didn't move an inch. He stood wide-eyed, staring at the ground and struggling for air.

"I have to ask— before you see her – why are you guys back?" Bucky shifted his gun in his grip, his muscles rippling under his tattered clothes. It was the question they had both been dreading. They had rehearsed it in the ride over – exactly how they were going to say it word for word.

"About that…" Tony trailed of as Tyler's brain whizzed. The thoughts put themselves together without any help until his head snapped up and he stared blankly at the Winter Soldier.

"We found a way to stop it. We've secured Asia." _So much for the plan._ There was a stunned silence. Tyler didn't have time to take in their reactions—to see the pure, genuine hope flood Bucky's face as his eyes crinkled and he smiled for real for the first time in a long time – to see the shocked and open-mouthed look appear on his father's presence before he would look at him incredulously with those dark eyes. _That is_ definitely _not what we rehearsed!_ He could hear the unspoken words clearly as he turned and fled.

And as he ran – "Well, welcome home. Where's Harley?"

He didn't have time to answer the question. To scream and cry and deny Tony's lies and confess that it was his fault. Everything was his fault. Harley's death, them coming home, all the lies he had told and all the cheating he had done. He didn't have time for any of it.

He had a dying girlfriend not one hundred yards away and he'd be damned to be kept from her one moment longer.

* * *

Fay let out another groan of pain as she tossed and turned uncomfortably on the cloth beneath her. She was aware of being conscious only a few times; the entire trip back to base was a complete blur to her. She faintly remembered someone holding her hand and encouraging her to keep fighting – it must have been Cal.

Her feathery brown hair lay tangled in clumps under her head, grossly sticking to her cheeks and attacking her eyes. Her hands felt like lead as she reached to rub it out of her face, letting out a surprised grunt when something took them.

"Let me get that for you." She was having another dream. There was no way – but yet his sturdy figure remained with each fragile blink of her eyes. His other hand came down to caress her broken face and remove the sticking strands of hair.

"Ty?" She croaked like frog, hating the way her voice sounded but loving the way his face looked. Except, she realized, it was too sad. His beautiful brown eyes were filled with it, swam with it and played with it like it was all they knew. There was sadness spread all over in his face, mixing with the dirt and the wounds from terrible affairs. Even the smile spreading over his lips was filled with it. Fay wanted to cry just looking at him.

"Hi," he cooed, never letting go of her hand as he searched for a seat. As he grabbed a pail and sunk down on it, she squeezed his fingers with what little strength he had. A small tear lead an army down his face, creating small paths of clean on his dirtied skin. Her face twitched as she readjusted herself to face him properly.

"H-how are you here?" She asked with a growing smile, not being able to help it as her eyes closed tiredly and she let out a small hum. He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles as he leaned onto her thin mattress. With her eyes closed she couldn't see the brief panic and anguish rush over him in an intense wave.

Instead, he forced himself to smile up at her – a smile as big as he dared without breaking down completely. "We did it Fay, we saved Asia."

Her eyes popped open. It was hard to explain what she was feeling. There was obviously an overwhelming amount of hope spreading through her body, but she also felt happy, ecstatic even, and unequivocally proud.

"I knew you could do it," she whispered to him, gazing into his melting eyes with so much promise of the future that Tyler began to cry even more. She mistook it for lots of things; mostly she just refused to believe any one person could be so sad.

He shook his head, drawing in a large breath through his nose and rubbed at his face. She would not stop looking at him like that! It broke his heart – shattered it into a million pieces. But then he remembered what it was all for and he smiled a sad little smile and bent over to give all of his love to her through one little forehead kiss. Her smile widened as he pulled away, placing individual kisses along her knuckles as he placed his head down on her bed and let his body weigh down with all of his pent up troubles. He looked up at her, and she down at him, watching the breaths come slowly through his body as his shoulders rose and fell.

"Get some rest, Fay, I'll be here when you wake up again. I'm not going anywhere." He sounded so sure, so absolutely confident in his words that she had no doubt in her mind he meant them. She drifted off peacefully for the first time since the invasion had started; a smile on her splitting soul and her boyfriend's hand clasped firmly around her own.

* * *

Tony poked his head into the makeshift infirmary. Fay lay there so peacefully, almost happy looking in her sleeping unconscious form. Her pale skin was like the grey of all the corpses around them, her head bandaged tightly and a brace around her torso.

His eyes shifted down, watching his son grasp on tightly to her in his sleep, his shoulders shaking violently as he snored. Tony recognized the nightmare immediately, having gone through it so many times with Pepper. The days that he would wake up panicked and confused had quickly become countless in number, melding together into one long terror that was always awake and by Tony's heart and in his brain no matter what his conscious state was.

He shook Tyler harshly, thankfully stirring him from his tortured sleep after only a few seconds. He blinked his eyes rapidly, the sweat pouring down his face and dribbling down his chin.

"We need to talk," Tony whispered, nodding his head outside and watching Tyler let go of her hand reluctantly and follow him into the miserably hot atmosphere.

"Dad, I know what you're going to say," Tyler was quick to look guilty as he dabbed at his face. Tony couldn't even begin to describe what he was feeling. Here he was, standing in front of his last remaining son, barely able to look at him.

The last few days had been torture for everyone – he wasn't going to be the one to deny that. But for Christ sake losing a wife and three boys in less than two weeks was taking a serious toll on the man. Tony didn't know what to feel. A lot of the time the emotions flooded him all at once and he just felt numb, but when one emotion finally peeked out, finally overpowered the others and controlled him; it was always anger.

He knew he wasn't angry at Tyler, not really, but he just _couldn't help it._ It was not Tyler's fault that Harley had died. _You say something in your head ten thousand times before you say it out loud._ Words from his late father – but Tony must have thought this exact same thing millions of times.

"No, you don't," he replied flatly, swiping his hand to shut his son up. _Look him in the eyes._ He couldn't. _Tell him again how it's not his fault._ He couldn't. _Reassure your son._ He _couldn't._

"I just want to know why." _Look at him._ Tony's gaze wound its way up from the ground in a slow spiral, finally landing on Tyler's nose. He just couldn't face looking into those damn eyes – the eyes of a lost little boy. The eyes of the only thing he had left in this world.

"I couldn't," his voice cracked. Tony looked away again. "I couldn't do it to her, Dad. Please, we can't let her know. Fay – we can't let her know." Tyler was his forgettable son; that's what the tabloids had called him. Howard was the responsible genius, Jay the rebellious playboy, and Harley the young screw-up. But Tyler? He was just there. He had been with his high-school sweetheart since _middle-school_ , gotten himself a steady job in an old factory, and had even enrolled in college. Sure, he had made his mistakes, but he tried to live a safe, happy life and there was _nothing_ forgettable about that.

They made eye contact. The years flashed before Tony's eyes: Pepper being pregnant with Howard, telling him what a happy occasion it was – a sign of hope after the hopeless months spent fighting Thanos. Then there were three happy little boys running around, Howard taking Tyler under his wing and showing him the world, and then Tyler vowing to do the same thing when little Harley was born. Those had been his first words to the newborn – _Hi, I'm Tyler and I'm your big brother. Stick with me and you'll never be sad._

 _And look at him now._ Tyler was visibly shaking in front of him. Tony could see the fear winding its way down his body, injecting itself into his veins and finding a forever home. Yet the boy dared not look away, standing firm on his decision and daring his father to disagree. Tony would not.

"Alright," he said, nodding his head. "We die happily where it all began. With friends." Tyler gave a curt nod with his head and glanced behind him at the closed tent that hid his heart.

"And family."

Tony's face fell as he followed Tyler's gaze. A strong, stoic man flashed into his mind, with a bright smile and a liar's face, carrying America's brand on his shoulders. "And _others_."


	7. 312 -

**Earth 312**

 **Pre-Invasion**

* * *

 _The moon's bright glow delivered a haunted complexion to the musty room, the light illuminating everything in alien silver. The scraping sound of metal on concrete resonated throughout the hidden locale, large blows interwoven with frantic breaths and sweaty hands as he grabbed the iron bars covering the window and frantically shook. A look of shock and terror covered his face as he cried ugly tears and let the snot drip out of his nose in sticky strands._

 _"Help me! Please, help me!" He pressed his face into the cool metal, the fresh air taunting him and making him cry harder. "Please—I don't know where I am! Help me." Through many hiccups and voice cracks he managed to sink down and pull his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth as the chains around his wrists and feet scraped uncaringly against the cold ground._

 _Wild green eyes floated around the room, taking in the lonely bed – the foreign place he had woken up minutes before - and lack of anything else. His chains led to an anchor in the wall and he scrambled to his feet, desperately pulling and jerking on them with all of his tiny might. The only thing he accomplished was noise._

 _His small frame hugged the wall as a noise sounded outside. His round cheeks were red with tears and his young eyes puffy remained filled with fear. He let out a whimper – such a frightened sound that it was foreign even to him._

* * *

 _It was raining out. He put his hand through the metal bars to try and grab a few drops, surprised to find that it barely fit anymore. His pale skin stood out against the clouded sky, his veins blue and obvious under the paper color. The rain hit his hands and splashed against them in the most refreshing way as he curled open his fingers and cupped them together._

 _Leaning up – he still needed to be on his toes – he pressed his face to the bars and gently brought the water to his chapped lips. His paling green eyes closed in blissful yearning as he poured handful after handful of rainwater down his throat._

 _After he was satisfied with his drink he tried to bring some in the room, tried to rub clean his arms and face from the countless months of filth, but found it hard to keep the water in his grasp. He managed to dampen his hands and run them a few times through his grease filled hair before taking his seat below the window, his only remaining source of sanity, hugging his knees close to his chest and laying his head against the concrete with a small thump. His eyes closed peacefully, his mind finding sleep amongst the soft pitter of water dripping behind him._

* * *

 _He sat on the bed, his feet hanging off and his arms hugging his thinning body as he rocked back and forth crazily. Small whispers left his mouth as his head turned violently from side to side, his eyes busily scanning every nook and cranny for possible danger. They snapped to the barred window as some leaves brushed by it, his whispered words becoming faster in delivery. A footstep. He started to cry. Another one. A door opened –_

 _"My name is Roman Thomas Fitzgerald and I will not." His words became louder, desperately trying to drown out the approaching noises. "My name is Roman Thomas Fitzgerald and I will not. My name is Roman Thomas Fitzgerald and I will not. My name is Roman Thomas Fitzgerald and I will not." The locked turned on his door and he flinched._

 _"My name is Roman Thomas Fitzgerald and I will not!" He was screaming now, angry, powerful words spewing out of his mouth with spit and fear. He screamed with all his might, the veins in his neck protruding with effort as his face turned red and the door opened._

 _"I will not! I will not!" He hid himself in the very corner of the bed as the figure came closer, his previously powerful words transforming into screams of terror as he was grabbed and dragged down onto the floor savagely._

* * *

 _It was snowing. A harsh wind blew some of the flakes into his room and they floated down onto his grey skin. They stung like embers from where he sat below the window, crouched and hugging his legs with weak arms. It wasn't his first winter season in the room – nor was it his second, or third._

 _His bony arms struggled to pull himself up; the once tight chains now lose and dragged him down with their impossible weight. Every step away from the window and towards the bed felt like an eternity of pain. His head spun wildly and his vision threatened to black out completely and he steadied himself with the help of the wall. A wet, sticky liquid dripped from his nose and splashed onto the ground, a trail of blood from one side of the room to the other._

 _He took one step and then another. Finally his body gave out and he collapsed, his hand grabbing for the bed and pulling the blanket down with him as he crashed into the floor._

 _The snow continued to fall through the window—nature didn't care. No one was coming._

* * *

Years passed. The healthy little boy grew to be starved and shaken; his eyes and cheeks sunk into his head as he lay on the bed in a useless heap. That boy from so long ago – with his glowing green eyes and youthful beauty that had seemed so ageless – was gone along with all memories of happiness and sense of hope.

It was dark out again. He had no way of telling how many days it had been – only a rough estimate of the years as the seasons slowly went by. There was nothing with witch to tally the walls; his cell was scoured daily for keepsakes and potential weapons. He had tried to mutilate his body – to create scars in his skin to keep track and number the days – but then they melted and blended in with all the others he had received through daily torture and failed attempts at escape so he had stopped.

Suicide was completely out of the picture. Not that he hadn't tried. God, how he had tried.

Every time he mutilated himself or was close to bleeding out someone would appear to patch him up and make sure he would live another day. It wasn't always his capturer; sometimes it was some poor bastard he managed to manipulate and mind-control and they would show up and help him and when they went home, back to their ordinary lives, they forgot about Roman Thomas Fitzgerald sitting in a pool of his own blood, bandaided and patched up and left to rot for all eternity.

It didn't matter who came – Roman never had the strength to escape. He could never fight back – he was too small a child at first and then, as he grew and was deprived of food, he became too weak to stand by himself much less get out. It was clever, really.

He had tried other ways; pulling at his chains and at the bars encasing the window. They would never budge. It was a fool's errand anyway.

When his bones became so frail and his arms so skinny that he could slip them out of the shackles, they were tightened and he was delivered another blow to his body, another blow to his sense of humanity. He had accepted long ago that he wasn't human; he was an animal, and he was being punished because he refused to do as he was asked. He couldn't. He _wouldn't_.

But his perseverance was slowly fading, slowly slipping away and for a while he was scared that, any day now, he would cave in.

But then something had happened and the trays of food that used to come once daily – if he were lucky – then came twice daily, sometimes even three times. The food was substantially better, too.

At first he had gorged himself; stuffed his hollow face until it all came back up again. His stomach was so small that he would vomit after just a couple of bites; but he couldn't stop himself so he let the cycle continue. There was never a question of the food being poisoned – someone who worked that hard to keep Roman alive wouldn't just give up all their hard work and poison him. No, that would have been too easy.

The years spent torturing him, bringing him to the edge of death and carefully avoiding any spots that were sure to end his life – the guy was aware. He knew what he was doing. Something as simple as poison was too easy for him; too offending.

But as the weeks continued and the trays of food never stopped or strayed, Roman learned to pace himself and eat only what he could handle. He was kept just starved enough to be too weak to escape, but his stamina slowly built and he felt better day by day and it terrified him. In a hell such as this one change could only mean one thing.

Something worse was coming.

He had tried to deny the food once. So terrified of what was next to come that he refused to take another bite – so it was shoved down his throat and he was given an option – eat willingly or suffer through the next winter alone, with no bed, no blanket, and no clothes.

So he ate and he grew increasingly scared, learning to fear again each day worse than before.

* * *

 _"Mr. Stark, if I may –"_

 _"Jesus Christ, Parker – call me Tony." Amusement flashed in his dark eyes as he stood across the counter from his old protégé, a gentle laugh leaving his aged appearance._

 _A sheepish smile came over Peter's face as he offered Tony a beer. "Right. Sorry." He opened his own and took a desperate gulp, gently closing the refrigerator door and standing opposite Tony behind the kitchen island. "Old habits die hard, I, uh, guess."_

 _Tony let out another small burst of laughter, raising his beer to the young man before him and taking a sip. His gaze wandered about the upscale New York apartment, a small bout of pride climbing into his heart. "You've got yourself a good place here, kid. I'm impressed." Peter became ecstatic – he had always valued Tony's opinions above all others. Even throughout all the years Peter still sought Tony's validation above all others. At first Tony had hated it; he wasn't worth looking up to. Maybe people saw him as a hero or maybe they didn't – but Tony knew that, on the inside, he was worse than sin itself._

 _"Thanks Mr. Tony!" Peter's face reddened. "I mean Stark. I mean Tony!" He desperately looked away and chugged his beer._

 _Tony rolled his eyes at the kid. Peter had been his reason to suck it up and be an adult. He became the only constant man in the kid's life – a father figure. Aunt May didn't like it at first, and neither did Tony, but one day it just started to feel right. Looking at Peter now, knowing all he had suffered through and seeing all that he has accomplished, Tony was one proud father._

 _"Why'd you ring me up, Pete?" They had yet to discuss the haphazard phone call of the night, Peter's stuttering voice rambling aimlessly on the other line as Tony shut off his equipment and promised to be right over. He met Peter's gaze and raised an eyebrow, staring intently at him as he brought the beer to his lips._

 _Peter sighed and looked down at his fingers as they scratched the label off the glass bottle. He had to build himself up to meet Tony's powerful gaze but it finally happened._

 _"Why haven't you told anyone about Pepper?"_

 _Tony's jaw set. His eyes narrowed instinctively but then he sighed – it's Peter. "How'd you find out?"_

 _"Well, I was kind of clueless about the whole thing. Then MJ brought up the idea and I did some digging." He was quick to reassure Tony, "Don't worry! I don't think anyone else has a clue."_

 _Tony drew in a long breath and tapped a melody on the countertop. "We'll be fine." It was a reassurance to himself. "We've been through worse. We'll make it through this." Except maybe they wouldn't – Peter had been around for many Tony and Pepper fights – Tony had never looked more unsure about their relationship._

 _"So you haven't signed the papers?" It was time for Tony to build his famous walls. He straightened, gulped the beer and adjusted his coat._

 _"Of course not; we're fine. Little lover's spat; you know how it goes." He gave a grin that could fool anyone. But Peter wasn't anyone. He was family._

 _"If – if Carly ever needs a place to stay…" Peter trailed off as the apartment door opened. They both followed the noise with their eyes, watching as a very young and very pregnant woman waddled into the living room._

 _"Stark." She greeted him calmly, putting her hands on her hips and nodding to Peter. "Why's he here?"_

 _"Michelle," Tony greeted back with a smirk, "My, aren't we radiant." They shared a tense gaze before Michelle snorted and plopped down on the couch._

 _"Peter, make him leave," she whined playfully, rubbing her stomach unconsciously as she turned on the television. Peter grinned ear to ear, watching her with love in his eyes. He turned back to Tony._

 _"Seriously. We can watch her any time." MJ looked over the couch cushions with a curious gaze._

 _"Are we talking about Carly?" She looked at Tony and nodded. "Man, I love that girl. Bring her over – Peter's going to need some help watching the baby when he comes out." She patted her stomach. "Momma needs a vacation."_

Tony smiled warmly down at the photo in front of him; new parents Peter and MJ in the hospital with their fresh out of the womb little boy. Benjamin Edward Parker – _God, poor kid. What a mouthful._ He placed the photo back in the box and set the box on the ground. _Who would name a kid after_ me _?_

The answer was obvious; Peter Parker would. Tony chuckled to himself and reached for another box. He hadn't been down in the house's workshop in years. And the last time he was, well, he was boxing everything up. Ready to move it all to the facility. Eventually he just forgot about it and no one else ever came down here so it all sat and the dust layer slowly grew.

His hand found another picture frame. He brought it out and his smile slowly dropped. The most beautiful woman Tony had ever seen smiled up at him behind the glass. Her fiery red hair was curled and loose around her shoulders, her dress blue and tight. The most amazing blue eyes took his breath away and refused to give it back. _Pepper Potts._ Tony sighed and put the picture down. Words rung in his brain and threatened to break his sanity. _'I've been telling Carly she's at business meetings.'_

Tony rubbed his jaw, the intense prickly feeling of his unshaven face raw and itchy against his touch. His eyes were red and swollen from time spent alone crying, his hair disheveled and matted. As he stood there, one hand over his mouth and body leaning against a worktable, he couldn't help but feel like a complete and utter failure. _Where did I go wrong?_

* * *

Carly wasn't used to her father being home. She wasn't used to them not talking, or more realistically, screaming. The lights were on in the basement – his workshop – and she could vividly remember the last time he had walked down those steps so many years ago. Before he had abandoned her, abandoned the family, and left her to rot here alone.

The car ride home had been silent. Tony had marched her right out of the building as soon as he had found her, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her outside and away from the ensuing madness of confused Avengers and worried parents. Not a single word had been spoken. When they got home he slammed his car door shut and went into the basement, leaving a small, sad Carly to sit alone in the car.

They had gone to bed without dinner. Tony didn't come back up. Even now he remained down there as Carly stood at the top of the staircase, fearfully looking down the steps for any sign of her absent father.

She didn't feel hungry but her stomach rumbled. She clutched at it, taking a tentative step downwards. The first of many. The cold metal stairs were harsh against her feet as she begged herself to be brave and dared venture down more. At the bottom she paused, listening intently for any signs of movement, of life. Nothing but an eerie silence hung in the air.

She stepped off the final step, her brown gaze wildly looking around. She had never been allowed down there as a child. Sure, she had snuck in once or twice, but even after he and Pepper left she stayed clear. Nothing good ever came from this room, anyway. There was nothing it could offer her except gloom and despair.

She turned the corner, swiping her finger across the wall as she walked and creating a thin line of clarity amongst the dust. Looking up she saw him, his back turned to her as he sat slumped over in an old stool. She swallowed.

"Dad?" She saw his shoulders move, and slowly his body turned to face her. He got up off the stool – Tony Stark always stood up when he had something important to say – and stood in front of her not ten feet away.

"We're gonna clear something up, right here, right now," his words were like frozen steel, unwanted and harsh to her ears. The burning sensation of new tears pricked the back of her eyes as she gazed sorrowfully up at the omnipotent man.

"I'm sorry," she said lamely, but his eyes flashed.

"No, you don't get to talk – I'm talking." He swiped a hand at her for emphasis and suddenly Carly wasn't talking to her father. She was talking to Tony Stark; Avenger, billionaire, and hollowed soul. Someone who had been through so much and Carly never once stopped to think about it. His words were filled with such strong emotion that she started to cry before he really said _anything._ Tony didn't seem apologetic.

"I am your _father_. I'm not your _friend_ , I'm not your _babysitter_ , and I'm not some douche-bag dumbass you can just piss off without any consequences." He glared at her. "You and me? We're done. That's it, no more of this shit you've been pulling for the last forever. You hear me?" He pointed harshly at her, and even though he couldn't physically reach her, she felt it in her heart.

"I don't have time to sit here and explain my life's story to you. I did what I did to raise you for my own reasons and whether you like it or not; _I don't care._ You don't get to go and blame me anymore; I've had enough of that for a lifetime. I have been through more shit than you could ever believe – you think a little attitude and some parties are going to change that? You can wish all you want for a different father, a different life, but that's all it is – wasted time wishing for something you can never have. You're stuck with me, kid, and that's just how it is. You don't like it? Tough shit."

Her lip wavered. She sucked in a breath and wiped at her face, smearing the tears into her skin. Tony didn't stop – he didn't even pause.

"I've apologized, I've pissed and moaned and complained but I've never done anything, and that's on me. I get it – I get why you hate me, I _really_ do. You're just like me, and I know that it's my fault, and _God damn_ I know I messed up somewhere. I've been trying to figure out where, but I just _can't_." Tony finally paused for a breath, running a hand through his greying hair and shaking his head at her. "Carly, this was something else. I don't – I can't…" he let the end of his sentence hang loose, his eyes crackling with sadness as he took her in.

"I don't like making you cry. It seems about all I'm good for."

She took a step forward. "Dad-"

He shook his head and turned away, making her choke on air and let out a sob.

"You crossed a line yesterday. You endangered your friends and family for selfish reasons." She went to talk, to defend herself, to do _anything_ , when his harsh glare made the words get stuck in her throat. "I know you did it for me; that's what you tell yourself. And I'd be honored, I almost am, if I didn't realize how incredibly _stupid_ you had been. You're irresponsible, immature, and incredibly selfish. You put the lives of _everybody_ in danger because you couldn't just fucking wait for the adults to handle it."

He turned back to her, taking a few steps forward. He was close enough for her to touch, but he had never looked so far away.

"The sad thing is; I've done things just as bad, if not worse. And I know what comes next – but you don't." His eyes bore into hers, unforgiving and alien. "You've broken my trust." The words hit her like a sledge hammer.

"You'll be staying with Peter and his family until I can fix your mess and we can figure out what to do next."

* * *

The stars were a painted miracle above their heads. They sat shoulder to shoulder, legs dangling off the cliff and floating in the air below them.

"So, he's kicking you out?" Ozur's tone was angry and disbelieving. Carly had just stopped crying but she feared she would start again any second.

"I deserve it." Her words were a spoken whisper, her breaths cracking and breaking and altogether weak. He scoffed at her.

"The guy doesn't know what he's talking about. He's not there as a father figure your entire life and now he just throws you out because he realizes he can't cage you in any longer. It's pathetic." Carly shook her head at him.

"Ozur, stop. It's not like that."

"That's exactly what it's like and you know it." It was a harsh tone, his words like ice as he looked at her with dark humor. "And look at you; still so oblivious and mind-controlled by that freak."

"My father it a lot of things but he is not a freak!" Carly moved to get up – to be anywhere but next to him—when she felt him grab her hand.

"My apologies," his tone had calmed significantly. His words were now smooth and flowed slowly like honey. Carly gazed at him blankly. His hand felt unwelcomingly cold in her own.

"I know he is your father, and perhaps he does mean well, but – he has no right!" Carly pursed her lips. _He has every right._

She slipped her hand away from his. "I don't really want to talk about it."

Ozur's pale skin glowed like pure silver in the moon's soft glow. His raven hair hung loosely around his face in fallen strands as he stared intensely at her with his sea green eyes. Carly felt unnaturally uncomfortable, but she didn't have anyone else. It was Ozur or the loneliness of her room – and she had suffered too long by taking that option.

Suddenly, his face smiled. Like a shimmering façade the anger in his eyes transformed into placid calm and his gaze turned upward to the skies. "Let me take your mind off it. I want to tell you a story."

Carly watched him for several moments before copying him and gazing up into the stars. "What's it about?" When he didn't answer she turned towards him, surprised to see how entranced he was with the beauty above. _His father's up there,_ she realized suddenly, _no one knows where, but he's there._ She watched as his eyes looked from star to star, searching for something they both knew he could never find. She wondered if he knew he was doing it.

"Ozur?" His lips pressed firmly together as she broke his trance.

"It's a wonderful story I've picked up through the years. Before your time, and certainly before mine, before there was only darkness and the elves; there was the Creator."

* * *

When Carly had ran up the stairs and out of the house yet again, Tony had done nothing to stop her. He simply watched her fleeing form as she tried desperately to get away from _him._ It was fine, either way; he knew she was just going up to the hill. Any other given day he might have chased after her, but not this time. He couldn't.

He sat folded over in an old wheeled chair, gently pushing himself back and forth as he poured another glass of whisky. His thumb traced the rim steadily, his eyes finding solace in its amber contents. The burning feeling of it in his throat eased the harsh pain in his heart.

It was as he stared, longing for simpler times, that he nodded his head. "Yup. Seems about right." He downed the alcohol and poured some more.

"Mr. Stark, incoming call from Steve Rogers." FRIDAY's voice was an unwelcome interruption to Tony's pity party as he straightened up and was forced to put the glass down.

"Answer it."

There was an automated click and then Steve's strong voice on the other line. "Tony? Where are you?"

"I'm home Rogers, where are you?" Tony leaned over and picked up a screwdriver, grabbing a half-finished project from years ago and tinkering with it idly. It was an old idea he had for the suit, something about electro-absorption and stronger boosters for quick liftoff.

"Tony, this isn't funny. We need you at the facility."

Tony rolled his eyes and pried the metal apart, lifting it to his face to inspect the wiring. "Oh, I'm sorry, was I laughing?"

Steve sighed. "Tony." The screwdriver slipped and Tony slammed his hands down on the table, swiping everything off of it in one swift movement. There was silence from the other end. Tony took his seat again, unaware of when he had stood up. He cradled his head in his hands, letting out a long breath through his nose.

"Tony, this isn't the time to reflect on mistakes." Steve's voice was soft yet strong; a warning that he wasn't about to put up with Tony's games. The joke was on him, however – Tony was _not_ playing around.

"This isn't time to give me parenting lessons, Rogers." Tony spoke lowly with all the venom in the world. His eyes opened fluidly, blank and emotionless.

"I'll be right there." He didn't give Steve any time to reply as he snapped to get FRIDAY's attention. "End call." The call was terminated just as Steve was beginning to protest, his voice fading into nothingness and leaving Tony once more in complete silence. He let out a loud breath, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. His gaze traveled around the room one final time; on all the boxes and forgotten projects, the face down pictures and rancid memories. His hand reached for his jacket and he was quick up the stairs and out of the house without another look back.

* * *

Carly watched his car leave from the cliff. She sniffled, silently wiping the sadness away with her shaking fingers as she waited for Ozur to begin his story.

"The story begins as it should; with two lovers." Her gaze slowly turned to him as his strong words entered reality, leaning against the rock and watching his sharp features as his eyes remained trained on the sky and his mouth recited the story from memory.

"Ageless in time they awoke into existence together and that's all there seemingly was, for eons. It didn't take them long to fall in love, for when there is no other option, for the sake of future existence, two lonely souls must endure together; suffer _together._ They only knew each other because there were _only_ each other – or so it seemed. Imagine it, Carly; no lightness, no darkness, just two people alone and scared and unable to die. Except the boy - he was never scared. He constantly reassured her, told her that as long as they were together, they would be fine. You see, he was a logical man – he knew they had nothing to fear because, in all the vast loneliness that they lived in, that was it. Simple, _pure,_ nothingness. Yet she was afraid.

"What does that tell you – even before time itself there was fear. Eventually his words were not enough to console her frightened heart. She wanted protection – she wanted control. She feared the nothingness surrounding them so she created _something._ She created the light, and she created the dark. She forged the stars and let there be skies to put them in. The man stuck by her all this time, watching as he slowly became not enough for her and she cast him aside."

* * *

Tony bent down on one knee to pick up a broken piece of the machine. It was incredible – whatever was on the other side had shattered _Vibranium._ The jagged edge poked out at him like a knife, ready to strike and kill.

"What's the damage?" He asked the others behind him, his face grim as they all stood out of his way and watched like incompetent bystanders. Not that they could have done anything here – Tony was the only one capable of assessing _anything_ until T'Challa got back with his own verdict. Tony's mind sparked. Maybe there was one other person…

"We've checked the surveillance cams," Natasha reported, "They go fuzzy milliseconds before the actual attack happens." Tony nodded his head, grabbing another piece. The lines where it broke were cleaner than glass – not a frayed end or split cut in sight.

"The lights were flicking, though," she continued, crossing her arms.

"Get to the point, Romanoff," Tony chided her, pushing himself off of the ground and inspecting the lights. The glass crunched under his feet with every step. _Carly had been here._

"We think it was a lightning strike." Tony looked incredulously at her.

"I'm sorry?" He raised his eyebrows – had he really heard her correctly?

She rolled her eyes at him. "Obviously not just a regular strike, Tony, we think there's someone on the other side with powers."

"Someone strong enough to break Vibranium?" Tony asked, watching as everyone's faces grew more and more concerned. "Not even Thor can do that."

* * *

"He began to grow fearful as well. If she did not need him anymore then what was the point of it all? Suddenly they were not alone – the two only living souls, perhaps, but he had heard her yearning to change that. He tried to console her, to rest her beating heart – like the old days – but her frantic mind would not let her soul rest.

"She claimed to do it for him. She loved him; she truly did, but she loved the power that came with making things and controlling them even more. She was blind in that aspect, and could not see that she was creating her own fate; her own story that could never have a happy ending."

* * *

"Our kids are over there." Sharon's hidden panic flared the same emotion within everyone else. When Tony had arrived it was all business – no one said anything about Carly less they wanted a war. So they had let the tension slowly build and now it broke as easily as an egg. Everyone's eyes fell on Tony.

"Sasha and Shay are over there too. Where is his daughter?" Tony didn't try to defend Carly, but he sure as hell wasn't going to stand by and let _them_ blame her.

"MJ picked her up last night," Peter's soft voice showed that he stood with Tony. He would _always_ stand with Tony. He nodded his head.

"Right. So while you all want to go and pin this on Scarlett – yes, that's a familiar scene, isn't it?" He glared at Steve, slowly turning his gaze to his friends and accusing them one by one. "When something goes wrong it must be because of a Stark. We're the only ones capable of making mistakes."

One by one they all dropped their gazes.

"In case you hadn't noticed, all your precious children were already in the room when Carly got there. Yea, she pulled the lever – but it was going to happen with or without her. Don't you dare put this all on her – your children were the brilliant ones to come up with this hell-hole of a plan; where is your blame for them?"

"It's dangerous over there," Peter added, sharing a secret look filled with everything in the world with Tony. "We need to table our differences and come together again, one last time, as a team."

* * *

"One day the Creator woke up – that's what she had branded herself. Eons of nothing, not even names, so she had created one for herself. She woke up and her beloved was no longer there. No note, no sign of his absence, no _nothing._ She went wild; she created people and worlds for them to live on so she would not be lonely. She created gods and monsters and unholy sites but it wasn't the same; they all feared her.

"He had taken to traveling her vast expanse of creation, admiring and fearing her dark work. He tried it himself, to create something marvelous and bring a little peace to her chaos. But he could not. You see, all he could manage was to create a portal, but he himself could not walk through it so he had no telling of where it went. He spent his days alone and trapped in his beloved's creation.

"Until her met _her_. And it was a profound thing. He thought he had been alone – having suffered through nothing with no one but the Creator – but she didn't have a creator. She had been there since the beginning as well, blinked into existence so unbelievably far away from him and the Creator that she had no hopes of every finding them. One day she had woken up to planets and stars and _life._ She had deiced to explore this new curiosity, when their eyes had met. It was like nothing ever before experienced; the first case of true love. They vowed to be together forever, to always love and to always be loved. And they day they _did_ create something new; a bond forged in time itself. They were married by the next morning."

* * *

"Carly will go over in the morning. She'll help MJ watch your little rug-rats and Winter. Don't let MJ go easy on her – especially now that she's pregnant again – make sure she makes Carly do all the heavy lifting."

"Tony, calm down," Peter's laugh echoed in the hallways as the two talked privately. "She'll be fine; she loves Ben and Athena. MJ will make sure everything's alright." Tony smiled briefly.

"Congratulations, by the way. I can barely handle one; how's upcoming number three treating you?"

Peter gave a genuine smile. "I couldn't be happier, Mr. Stark." Tony nodded his head – he could see the honesty in Peter's excited eyes.

* * *

"The creator grew anguished in her perpetual superiority, but she refused to destroy anything she had made. Instead, she let her civilizations thrive and let them be in relative peace. She realized her mistake, reminded herself of what she had lost, and went looking for him. Imagine her surprise to find him with another woman – another woman whom she _hadn't_ created. It broke something inside of her that day, something deep down snapped and she became vengeful. She vowed to kill the other woman if he did not return as the Creator's lover, but he refused. _Until death do us part,_ he declared to the Creator, shielding his wife and escaping with her from immediate danger.

"But the Creator would not rest. She vowed to chase them to the ends of all she had created. It was her promise to them that his wife would die, and he would return to her and they could go back to being lovers for all eternity. Her chase never ceased. Generation upon generation of her creations below began to span across the universe until it spiraled out of control. The man and his wife grew increasingly tired – and he realized that the Creator meant it, and she would never stop. So he left his wife one night, kissed her forehead as she slept, and brought with him a knife to meet his doom. But the Creator was too clever; she saw the attack coming before he even planned to strike. She caged him, vowing that he would remain in jail for as long as it took for him to love her again – they had all the time in existence. But, because he was there and his wife was not, the Creator vowed to stop hunting her and let her live her life in peace, far away from them both.

"But the wife would not rest. She had vowed to be with her husband for all eternity, and that's exactly how it was going to be. She was careful, waiting centuries for the perfect time to strike. Then, when the time was right, she crept past the Creator's watchful gaze one night – she had always been blind when it came to the man; call it love – and set him free. However, it wasn't enough for her. Despite his begging, his promise that he knew a place they could hide far away, she knew that they could never rest until the Creator was dead. So she attacked her in her sleep, but the Creator was too clever. Though the wife managed to scar the Creator's face, she was bested and the only thing that kept her alive was the man's love and the knife digging into his heart."

* * *

"I'll be going to Wakanda to see T'Challa. He's already working on another proto-type; I'll save him the trouble of coming here." Tony had made up his mind. Natasha bit her lip and Steve gave a huff but didn't say anything.

"Alright, I'll say it," Sam spoke up from the back, rubbing his arm distractedly. "What are we supposed to do while you're gone? It's not like any of us know quantum mechanics or anything."

"It's not exactly quantum mechanics – not the point," Tony restrained himself. He looked around the room, looking expectantly at people. "Really? No one else you can think of?"

Everyone was silent.

"Tony? Is there someone you're not telling us about?" Natasha quirked an eyebrow. Tony narrowed his eyes at her.

"Guys, come on. Just call Bruce over."

* * *

"He killed himself?" Carly asked wildly, her eyes wide and bright with astonishment. Ozur chuckled and shook his head.

"Just listen to the story." She nodded enthusiastically.

"The man told the Creator that she would not kill his wife, unless he was to die as well. With every move she made to take his wife's live, he dug the knife deeper into his skin. It was then that the Creator realized he truly did love his wife more than she; and it did not make her happy. Realizing they were at a stalemate, she could not bear to lose him and he refused to live a day without his wife, she devised a clever plan. She split her creations into separate dimensions, each one similar to each other but otherwise completely different.

"She said she knew where his portal would take him, but she would not give him the answer. She also said that he could not travel through his portal without the keystone; his wife. The man felt stupid; he had never tried that before. When he wondered why the Creator was telling him all of this, she wanted to explain to him that it was because she wanted him, the Betrayer, to live the rest of eternity knowing that, had he simply tried, he could have avoided this all.

"She threw his wife, the destroyer of happiness, into a dimension. When the Betrayer went to follow, the Creator blocked his path. 'No,' she told him, 'I have a special place for you.' And she threw him into a separate dimension. She placed a curse on them that day; they would live as humans among different dimensions, born each life yearning for each other but now knowing why or where they were. Each death would lead to them being born on a different planet, in a different dimension for all eternity.

"What the creator did not know was that the Betrayer cast a curse on her that day as well. If he was to live his life without his soulmate, unable to permanently die, then she would be stuck in the darkness of her own creation for all eternity. Unable to escape, she would be confined to darkness, only able to watch over her creations, until the end of time."

* * *

"Tony…" Natasha looked at him with more emotion than he could ever remember her having. He looked around; they were all watching him carefully.

"What?" He demanded, making Peter flinch beside him.

"The dude's been missing since Thanos," Sam reminded him, and Tony went numb. How had he forgotten? Tony shook his head.

"Yea, but…" His face contorted as he fought for control. _Wasn't someone else missing, too?_

* * *

Carly could only stare with wide eyes. "Wow." It seemed lame next to the wonderful story she had just been told. Ozur turned to her with a smile.

"Does it end? Just like that?" She wondered, her soul looking at him through her eyes, grasping at any closure he could offer. He merely smiled kindly at her.

"The legend states that, when it is time for the Creator to die, the Betrayer and his wife will be born on the same planet, in the same dimension."

Carly hummed. "I like that story. It's dark and creepy – not at all comforting."

"And yet you like it?"

She nodded, gazing into the distant trees below them.

"Yea – it's sweet. Two people who would do anything for love; it's not their fault someone else's jealousy got between them."

Ozur nodded in understanding. "It was my favorite story as a child – I loved to sit and listen to my teachers tell it." Carly leaned back into the grass and closed her eyes.

"I wish it was real."


	8. 216 - 8m 23d Post

**Earth 216**

 **Eight Months and Twenty-Three Days After Invasion**

* * *

A new morning came with new but familiar faces. As Jamie sat on the floor with Grant, playing an intense game of marbles, people bustled around them like bees in a hive. The movement had never really stopped; Jamie had heard doors open and close all night. She had listened intently, realizing that they were taking shifts. Every couple of hours a pair would switch out – but every switch occurred at a different time so that someone was always outside on the lookout. They never left by themselves – and they never took someone too fatigued or injured. It was serious business; a perfect system.

As the sun rose and her friends started to rise with it, Jamie knew exactly who was in and who was out – unless, of course, there were still bodies out there that she was unable to account for.

The weirdest moment had been when Steve Rogers came in. Grant was still sleepy and just sitting up when their father – it was weird to think of him any other way – had come into the building exhausted and feigned, but otherwise unharmed. Jamie had stared at him intently, looking for any minuscule detail that was different from the Steve Rogers back home. She needed to find something to mark them apart; it was some instinct inside of her that kept her searching even as his potent gaze met hers.

Jamie was disappointed when he walked over to them and offered a kind smile – exactly what he would have done back home. Even the lines on his face where the same. His eyes crinkled the same way and the energy that he gave off was inspiring, even when he looked like he was about to collapse. She watched him calculatingly.

"I heard that we had visitors." His voice jarred Grant wide awake and he bolted upright in his seat.

"Dad?" Steve's face fell, if only briefly, before his smile appeared again as Grant panicked and realized his mistake. "Sorry."

Steve gave a half-hearted chuckle and tried to hold in a yawn. "Thank you, all of you, for coming. We thought no one would."

"But you fought through it," Jamie reminded him, less willing to put on a smile and talk like friends to a man who was indistinguishable from her home-world idol. _I don't buy it – there's no such thing as being the_ same. "You guys never gave up hope, even when you had every reason to."

Steve's eyes sparkled and he shrugged his shoulders lightly. "There's always something to fight for." His words sent chills down her spine – she had heard the same ones all her life. _Never give up Jamie, there's always something to fight for._ She flared her nostrils.

"You should get some sleep." Steve suddenly looked relieved to be dismissed – like he was glad they weren't going to discuss that _he was their father._ He raised a hand to both of them and left them in peace with one more dazzling smile. Grant slumped over again.

"Don't be mean." Jamie puffed at him but he only rolled his eyes. "Oh, please, I know how you think. So the guy looks the same; big deal."

She wouldn't contradict him. She knew he thought it was weird, too, but he simply didn't want to admit that to himself so there was no way she would change his mind. As a big sister, it was Jamie's job to protect as much of his innocence as she could – no matter how old he got. So she shrugged her strong shoulders and leaned against his chair.

"Yea, you're probably right." Her eye caught something in the corner, slightly tucked under the couch opposite and glittering slightly in the fanning sunlight. A light smirk came onto her face as she leaned her head back and looked at her brother. "Marbles?"

And so there they sat, Jamie absolutely whooping his ass, playing well into the late morning as Roy and the others woke up and came to play spectator to Grant's funeral. They had just started another game when Tori, Fandral and Clint appeared in front of them. Jamie looked up expectantly, her hand ready to finish her turn, but otherwise she was stone.

They stood ready to go outside, she realized, watching as each tugged on backpack straps and checked weapons. Clint was guzzling coffee and Jamie swore she heard him snoring – her face contorting in disgusted fascination at his ability to avoid drowning in his apparent sleep. Tori had one hand tucked into a pocket and the other wrapped around an old skateboard, one wheel a different color than the rest. Fandral – well he just looked ready for war. Bulging muscles and handsome face excited and ready for a good fight. Jamie recognized the expression anywhere – she had seen it on her own face many times.

"We're about to switch out for shifts," Fandral declared with his booming voice, "and we thought we'd bring a few of you to join us so our team can rest, if you're up for it."

"Of course we're up for it," Roy snapped, rubbing his hands together eagerly. Jamie gave a mischievous smile and looked to Fandral.

"Don't mind him; he's grumpy in the morning." Roy deadpanned at her as everyone chuckled and smiled. He wiggled his nose and turned back to Fandral.

"How many do you need?"

"We go in partners, so we'll take three volunteers." Jamie saw the excitement grow in Grant's eyes and a brief panic started in her heart before she reminded herself to stay calm. _I've got this._ She had been a big sister for eighteen years of her life – she knew how to handle everything at this point.

"Grant and I will stay behind," she answered quickly, watching his face widen with surprise. "We've got a hardcore game of marbles to finish." She met his annoyed glance and put a calm smile on her face, easily convincing the others.

"Great; me, Sasha and Shay will go. I call skateboard guy." Roy grabbed his own pack from the corner where they had been stashed and looked through when they were all unconscious the previous day. He jogged over to Tori and held out his hand for a high-five which was reluctantly met in a begrudging style.

Fandral nodded curtly. "Thank you all for volunteering. I have to warn you; since you opened a portal into this world the Stinger's are plenty more agitated. We can't promise you safety." Jamie met his gaze unflinchingly, not angry or defensive, just serious.

"That's why we came."

He nodded to her with respect, his eyebrow slightly quirking up before he turned to Shay. "I guess you're with me then, come on." He turned to leave but Roy stood behind and protested.

"Ohhhh, no. No, no, no. She goes with Clint." Everyone stopped and turned around to look at him questioningly. Clint yawned and flexed his arms.

"Um, why?" Tori looked like he was missing something obvious – he wasn't, Jamie stared at Roy with query.

"She was trained by Black Widow," Roy spoke his words like it was the most obvious thing in life. Clint and the others looked impressed, but everyone was still confused. Roy face-palmed. "Helloooo; Hawkeye and Black Widow, famous assasains and legendary parters? Not to mention a little som'thn extra, if you know what I mean," he winked at Sasha who stared at him in disbelief.

"Dude, are you trying to hook him up with my _wife?_ "

"I'm going to need more coffee if you expect me to deal with this shit." Clint looked extremely uncomfortable in the situation and Jamie would have laughed if she hadn't noticed something flash in his eyes. Her head tilted in wonder.

Roy scoffed, though he looked more amused than anything. "Come on, I can't be the only one who appreciates a little irony, right?" He looked around, waiting for someone to back him up. "Right?"

"Whatever, let's go." Shay slunk off past Clint and he offered a shrug to the group, shouldering his quiver and jogging after her. Sasha bit his cheek and actively restrained himself from attacking the minor. He followed a laughing Fandral out into the danger zone. Tori looked less than thrilled to be left with Roy, who was grinning ear to ear and paid no mind to anyone's discomfort. He patted Tori on the chest, craning his neck to look up at the – Asgardian? – she only assumed.

"You're gonna love me, partner." He puckered his lips and gave two air kisses, laughing maniacally as Tori sighed and met Jamie's eyes.

"You sure you don't want to go?"

* * *

Clint and Shay walked in silence. He assumed she was just taking in everything he had tried to explain to her about the invasion. To be fair, he had probably done a shitty job, but she _was_ pretty silent so he assumed _something_ was sinking in.

They went east as previously planned, making their way over rubble and fallen debris with relative ease. His eyes were trained on the sky at almost all times, the intense flashes of color and swarming masses no longer hurting his brain – maybe he was going dumb or maybe he was just used to it. His hand flexed on his bow out of familiarity, silently leading her through a worn path in between two giant stumps that used to be skyscrapers.

Eventually her perpetual silence agitated him and he stopped. She looked at him expectantly, her hand traveling to her gun holstered on her thigh as she looked around expectantly. Boy, was he about to ruin her expectation.

"You don't talk much, do you?" She looked let down as her hand traveled back to hang loosely by her side and she continued climbing in the rubble. Clint gave a huff and followed her. _Yea, 'cause she knows where she's going._

"I'm just trying to figure it all out," she responded after a few weighted moments. Clint took the lead again as he curved their path.

"Anything I can help with?" He wondered aloud, pausing briefly to gaze around once more before quickening their pace. They needed to make it to the checkpoint before three when the Stingers became particularly rowdy.

"Well, I'm just wondering how this Earth can be so different. Different dimensions – that's a lot to take in." Clint nodded in plain agreement. He wasn't an advocate for believing in magic, but he wasn't bright enough to understand the science behind much, so it wasn't like he had a choice. It was much easier for him to wave his hand and pass it off as some unexplainable witchcraft than think too hard about it – not asking questions might bother other people but it suited Clint quite well and it saved him a fair amount of time. The possibility of different dimensions was shocking to him at first, but he quickly filed it away with the existence of super-powered beings and his knowledge of Asgard. If Bruce can turn into a raging green monster, why can't there be multiple versions of Earth?

"I mean, what happened to make this place so different? How many other dimensions are there?" Her questions didn't even faze him.

"I dunno." He grunted as he hauled himself over a large section of building and held out a hand to help her up, but she refused his gesture and skillfully scaled it herself.

"Well, what's happened here? I mean, besides the invasion…which we have yet to experience." A shudder passed over her body and suddenly Clint _was_ fazed. It was true; they had lived the invasion, they had practically _beaten_ it. Her world hadn't even gotten to that point yet.

"I dunno." His words seemed to anger her so he sighed and tried to think. "Tony created a murder bot a couple of decades ago. That was fun."

"Ultron." As she named the beast Clint nodded, a little weirded out but too lazy to question it.

"Heh, yea," he confirmed, watching as she nodded her head and muttered to herself.

"And Thanos?" She asked, stumping a lost Clint.

"Thanos? What's that?"

* * *

"What, so now you're not going to let me go anywhere?" Grant stood up from his spot cross-legged on the floor. Jamie was quick to mirror his movements as she nodded her head.

"That's right – at least not without me." Grant scoffed.

"I don't need a babysitter. I'm nineteen." Jamie wanted to be serious. She wanted to be controlled and tell him that it was her duty as the eldest sibling, to keep him in check, no matter how much he hated it. But she just couldn't stay serious because here was supreme-jock Grant Rogers whining to his older sister and using his age as a reason why he should be allowed to do something. She felt like such a mom.

"Why are you laughing?" Grant demanded angrily, and her laughs became louder. He scoffed, but it was light-hearted and soon he too couldn't help but guffaw – her laugh had always been so contagious, especially when she started snorting or wheezing from lack of oxygen. "Why is this funny to you?"

She let out one more long whinny of hysterics, walking over to pull him into a tight embrace. "We are _so_ not having this conversation, Grant. I'm not Mom, okay? I told you that you shouldn't have come, but you still did, so now you have to live with my rules." Her arms wrapped securely around him, hugging him close to her chest as he rolled his eyes but complied, grumbling under his breath and loosely hanging onto her.

Her eyes started to shift close and enjoy the moment when they caught on a figure just entering the room, snapping open in confusion as James Buchanan Barnes limped into view.

"Dad?"

* * *

Roy whistled as they walked. It was his only salvation against the constant and annoying drawl of Tori's skateboard against the pavement. He was concentrating hard on the space around him, busily shaking his hands and growing increasingly worried. No matter what he did, he could not summon one ounce of cosmic energy. There were a couple of rust colored sparks here and there, but otherwise, he was empty.

Tori did a loop and came back next to him, slowing his board until he skillfully glided at a walking pace. Roy scratched at an ear and steadied his shaking limbs, waiting for Tori's instructions.

"Why do you keep shaking your hands like that?" The boy wondered, pumping his leg and watching Roy's hands in fascination. _Boy – didn't your mamma ever teach you it was rude to stare?_ Roy shrugged nonchalantly.

"I think Jace did a number on my summoning abilities. I can't seem to pull anything from anywhere – you're world just feels _blank_." Roy knew he sounded less than worried about it. He also knew that he was completely freaking out inside – call the fire department; Aunt Sally's up on the roof again freaking out. Without his ability to summon or create weapons or all of the wonderful things that came with the magic… he was a fish in a barrel. A very, _very_ attractive fish, maybe, but he was in a barrel nonetheless and he didn't like it. That was cruel to the fish and he was very much against animal abuse – especially when he was said animal.

Tori did some fancy-ass shit with his skateboard and in the blink of an eye it was in his hand as he slowed to a walk beside Roy. _Neat._

"You have magic abilities? That's so cool! What's it like?" The boy was like a little puppy with his excited face and floppy brown hair. Roy nearly scratched his ears and cooed. But then he was confused – how could Tori not know about his abilities? But then he wasn't confused – _right, give him the ol' razzle dazzle._

He puffed up his chest and sent Tori a wink, holding out his hand for a shake. "Hi there, the name's _Strange_. Roy Strange." _Picked that little number up from my old buddy James,_ he snickered to himself as Tori shook his hand rather forcefully and Roy had to keep himself from flinching.

"And I'm Tori Lewis? I don't get how that answers my question." Roy stopped dead in his tracks. It was like the world around him slowed down. He could picture it now; _and the camera moves in on his face, dramatic music plays as he grows more concerned. Dun dun DUUUHHNNN – he screams in terror and everything fades black – to be continued…?_

"I'm Roy _Strange_ ," he looked to see if anything was registering in Tori's brain. The brunette nodded his head with a puzzled expression.

"Yea..you've said that." Roy could feel his palms getting sticky, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as a sudden chill passed through his body.

"Roy Strange, Warlock extraordinaire? Extremely handsome son of Doctor Stephan Strange, Sorcerer Supreme?" Roy looked fixedly on Tori but he could tell it was useless. His heart beat faster but he forced his outward appearance to remain in control. Roy Strange did _not_ freak out in front of tall, attractive, muscular men. "Doctor Stephan Strange. Controlled the Time Stone for a bit? Any of these words sticking with you?"

Tori made a face and shook his head, slightly checking the sky and Roy swallowed thickly. The cold, harsh fingers of dread poked and prodded him but he managed to smile anyway.

"Cool." His voice was an octave higher than it should have been. "So, where are we going?"

Tori's face melted into complete euphoria as he looked over his shoulder and down the road. Roy was glad for the distraction – it let his mind process that fact that his father didn't exist in this world.

"There's a shelter for citizens just down the block. We're headed there to make sure everyone's all right." Tori started their walk again. Roy gave a sly grin.

"You've got a girl there." Tori looked astonished and went to defend himself right away, but he must have guessed that Roy wouldn't have let it go. _Little lad's learning already._

"I've got _the_ girl there," Tori answered strongly, a slight pink coloring his cheeks. Roy nodded absent mindedly.

"Cool, cool," on any other occasion he would have burst out laughing. _Ha, big strong man like you, blushing? Ridiculous._ He shook his head, disappointed in himself. He couldn't even _think_ of a good zinger to roast him with. There was only one thought running through his mind and it spread panic into him like the plague.

 _No Doctor Strange and no Sorcerers….are there any magical entities on which to derive power? Am I, the most powerful of those who came, completely_ useless _?_

* * *

Their eyes locked across the room, fiery blue gazes tangling and asking questions. Grant broke out of her embrace with a hearty laugh. "Now who's the crazy one?" He turned to face the intruder, Jamie's hand flying up to cover her mouth as her eyes widened and she realized what she had done.

"It's just Stev—Bucky?" A silence filled the room and Jamie couldn't move. She was trapped between want and necessity – did she talk to Bucky and let it all out or console her brother and cover up her error with another lie? Her silence apparently answered that for her as Bucky's eyes widened as he realized she wasn't correcting her mistake and Grant turned back to face her with a wild spin.

"Did you call him 'Dad'?" His pale blues eyes dug into her skin, so small and so innocent. Jamie opened her mouth, her eyes flaring from one male to the other. Bucky stood warily in the doorframe, the fatigue of his shift showing but he somehow felt the need to stay and see this through to the end. It was scary how emotionless he was just standing there, his face blank and his body rigid – but those _eyes._ They held all the secrets of the world; two little orbs of immense pain and suffering, and yet they somehow managed to stay bright and illuminate the darkness. Grant had seen eyes like that before; the eyes of his sister.

"Dad?" He echoed, turning to Jamie with watery eyes. Her head shook slowly, her mind racing as she stuttered over words, her frantic shakes increasing in speed as she fought for serenity. _This can't be happening. This can't be happening._

"I think you must be mistaken," Finally, Bucky interrupted the silence. He hefted himself up off of the wall and turned away from them. "I don't have kids." She couldn't bear to let him take another step. Watching him walk away was a constant reminder of his death back home – if she didn't get closer now then she never could. She glanced at Grant with apologies for eyes and took a step forward after the enhanced man.

"Her name was Cecelia." He froze. Time was ticking away as Jamie breathed heavily and raced for anything to keep him there.

"You met her in Europe after you became the Winter Soldier again." She was acutely aware of Grant watching from behind, his mouth growing wider with every word she spoke. She was tearing herself up inside, a constant battle of should she or shouldn't she. Her thoughts betrayed her mouth. "You called her Cece." She saw his shoulders tense and watched as he slowly turned back around.

"How did you….How?" His words were so broken; his eyes full of sorrow and heartache. The only thing Jamie could hear was her heartbeat.

"She helped you be normal again. She helped you feel sane." In a marveling twist she watched her words transform the man in front of her, teleporting him back into his mind. Regret slashed over his face as Jamie tried to get him to continue the story. She had completely forgotten about Grant by that time; there was only her and her dead father.

"You two fell in love…"

"She was pregnant." His whispered words stunned both of them, and Jamie nodded. Bucky was extremely uncomfortable as he continued, his words barley anything more than light breaths as he cried silent tears. "It was a boy. She wanted to name the baby James, after me." He let out a simple laugh at that, something that resonated deep within Jamie's soul. It brought back a fuzzy memory from her childhood; her father's happy laugh as they made pancakes in the kitchen. "We were happy…we were…I was going to have a family." Jamie's heart stopped.

"You _were_?" She questioned, but Bucky was no longer there. He was reliving the past, his hands ghosting out as if to cradle a child.

"She died during childbirth. Neither of them made it." Her face contorted with astonishment. She gently shook her head as he turned to leave again. She couldn't let him escape – no – she couldn't – he needed to stay –

"You hid from everyone." Her hurried words seemed to bring back his attention as he turned his ear towards her but refused to turn around completely. A gentle tear slid down her cheek.

"You married Cece in the span of weeks. She got pregnant – it was a girl. You named her… you named me Jamie." Her trembling lips attempted a smile as his body came full circle and his tears came into view with her own. He opened his mouth to speak.

"You're not my sister?" Jamie gasped. _Grant._

* * *

They sat at a picnic table, an awkward silence hanging around the three of them. He sat by himself, watching with barely held in amusement as Tori and his girlfriend – what was her name again? Reyna? Riley? Rachel? – sat uncomfortably apart from each other as if to make it less awkward for him. _Him!_ Eventually, he couldn't hold in his laugh.

Tori looked agitated. "What?" Roy waved his hand, doubling over on the bench the more he thought about it.

 _Well, shit, it ain't that funny. Why am I still laughing?_ He sounded crazy; maniacal even. He wiped his eyes and grinned at them.

"We need something to break the ice. Who's up for strip poker?"

* * *

"I'll uh, leave you two alone." Bucky's words came unheard to both pairs of ears as Jamie spun to meet her brother's tortured gaze. Silent tears were streaming down his face as she reached out to wipe them, but he slapped her hand away with such force that she took a step back.

"Grant," she chided, but her voice was too soft. _What have I done?_ She couldn't believe it. She had been stupid – why did she have to choose that particular moment to turn crazy and reveal her biggest secret. And right in front of Grant, too!

"How could you not tell me?" He screamed at her, seeming so young and _so_ scared as he cried uncontrollably. Her own tears cascaded down her face.

"Grant, please, you know what Bucky was like on our Earth." Words flashed in her mind. _Monster. Killer. Terrorist._ She hugged her arm to her chest, not used to all of the overflowing emotions. She was the level headed one – they both were – but not now. Now they were screaming and crying and being ugly children and not doing anything the right way. She couldn't help it, her mind was still spinning and she could barely tell up from down. She longed for something cool to calm her growing migraine.

"So what – everyone lies and pretends that you're my sister?" She felt his spit on her cheek and let out an angry sob.

"I have been your sister for eighteen years of my life, don't you ever think anything against that." She countered his attack with a hard defense. "Steve and Sharon are my parents as much as they are yours –"

"But they're not!" His words lashed through her own with all the power of his soul – of the world. Jamie was aghast.

"Bucky's my father," she whispered, "but _you're_ my brother."

Grant looked her dead in the eye. "Am I?"

* * *

"So I suppose we don't tell anyone we spent your shift talking to a pretty lady."

"Does anyone ever tell you how annoying you are?" The elevator doors opened and Tori was gladly the first to step through them. Roy blinked.

"Not to my face, why?" Tori rolled his eyes with a small smirk – completely unbelieving. Roy stepped out after him and was about to continue the banter when a shaking figure drew his attention. Maybe he had ADHD or ADD – not that he could subtract either – or some other funny capital letters. He was always getting distracted by moving stuff, or shiny stuff, or pretty stuff, or…. He got distracted by lots of stuff. He signaled to Tori and walked over to Jamie, gently stopping beside her shaken form.

"Jamie?" He asked calmly, gently resting a hand on her shoulder. She flinched. "What's going on?"

"Bucky's my father." Tori's eyebrows shot up. His gaze shifted to Roy, wondering what he should do, but Roy was unfazed.

"And?"

Jamie turned to look at him. "And? What do you mean and?" Her luxurious brown hair was an un-brushed lion's mane. Roy tried to hide his snort but failed, giving an apology frown her way as he realized his insincerity.

"Right. I'm not supposed to know." He rubbed the back of his neck, turning to Tori and giving a shrug and a 'whoops, guess that one's out' look. It was kind of like a cringe mixed with that eye-bulging that occurred after a hefty shit. Jamie spun on him and he squeaked and stepped back – she was _seriously_ freaky. He especially hated the way her eyes got all evil when she was mad. He shuddered. She was worse than Medusa.

"Well, who told you?" She demanded, looking back and forth between the two of them like maybe it had been Tori. Roy ran a hand through his hair, further messing it up, and breathed out through his teeth.

"My dad?" Her eyes threatened to kill him. "Whoa, whoa! To be honest, it's kind of hard to keep secrets from someone who could possibly travel in time, you know, ifthesoulstonecouldeverbefoundagain." He gave a sheepish grin, watching as her fire slowly settled. She sighed and turned away, rubbing her arms like she was cold.

Roy didn't really know what to think or do next, and as he glanced at Tori, he found the boy to be quite concerned.

"Jamie?" He asked cautiously, reaching out to her as if she were a scared animal. His eyes where narrowed sadly, his appearance hesitating as if dreading some unknown source. "Where's your brother?"

She chewed on a fingernail. "He didn't take the news so well," she admitted, and Roy snorted. It figured – Grant couldn't handle anything that interrupted his perfect little American life. That was why he was so protective of Carly – what she could have been haunted him to this day. "He took a walk to clear his head."

Tori was already reaching for his skateboard. "Shit," he hissed, running to the balcony and looking down. Jamie was steps behind him, freaking out to the max.

"What? What's wrong?" She was asking, peering over his shoulder as his eyes scanned the rubble below.

"What way did he go?" Tori asked forcefully, jarring Jamie as she shook her head and sputtered out made-up words. Roy watched them through the glass as Tori grabbed Jamie's shoulder and squeezed a bit – drawing her into reality.

"You watched him leave, I know you did – _what way?_ " She extended a shaky hand, pointing vaguely to the left. His eyes locked on and he nodded, strapping the skateboard to his back as he calculated the distance.

"Whoa, hold on-!" Roy started, but Tori was already standing on the ledge.

"When Fandral gets back tell him I'm by check point 43 – and it's Stinger's hour." Then, with a grim line for a mouth, he turned to Jamie.

"I'll get him back." He turned away from them and jumped, Roy's eyes widening as he ran to the balcony and watched as he spun rapidly through the air, the soft glint of silver blades barely visible in the rapid movements.

* * *

Tori's foot slipped on the dusty ground as he stuck the landing. He was up before anything else could happen – riding through buildings and praying beyond hope and time that they hadn't gotten to the young Roger's boy yet.

To be fair, they _had_ been told to go out in pairs. They had also been told that it was particularly dangerous since they had opened that portal. But Tori got it - strong emotions had even stronger impacts and emotions made people do drastic things. Taking a walk, for example - completely stupid - but completely not his fault.

Even as he pushed his board with everything he had, he couldn't help but to think about it. _Bucky – as a father._ It was weird and hard to imagine. Not that he doubted the guy wouldn't be a good parent – there was no doubt he'd be amazing at fatherhood – it was just always a trip, imagining something that wasn't and probably would never be.

He passed an old Starbucks and sucked in a breath, leaping through the broken glass of the window. He pressed himself against the wall just as a shadow passed, the long, frightening shape of what loomed above slowly walking about outside where Tori had been not moments before. He turned a blade in his hand, the familiar powerful aura of it spreading through his bones and giving him strength.

It wasn't bad enough the guy had to take a walk a day after they opened the portal, but he had to take a walk at three o'clock – designated Stinger attack waiting to happen. They always got agitated at three, and seven, and then again around one in the morning. Not that they had any clue why – they just learned to live with it and avoid the outside during those times.

He hoped Rayne was back inside; that she was safe. It had been nice to see her again, even if he had to bring Roy with him. Still, the hours had passed relatively quickly and without much pain; Roy only making things unbearably awkward a handful of occasions. They had shared a passionate kiss and then went their separate ways, her back to the safe house, and he and Roy back to the Tower only to find – Grant!

The red toe of a sneaker peaked out at Tori across the store, hidden mostly by the barista's counter. Tori let out a short breath and smiled thankfully. He raised his head to the sky and closed his eyes, giving a small prayer to his people back at Asgard – to Heimdall for giving him sight and helping him find his way. Then his eyes were open again and he was checking cautiously through the broken windows for any signs of the creature.

When none arose, Tori swiped his blades away and silently made his way across the dark store. His footfalls were completely silent minus the occasional crack of glass under his weight.

"Grant," he called in a whisper, tilting his head when there was no response. _That's odd…I could have sworn he was wearing red shoes –_

He turned the corner and his eyes went wide, his mouth opening and drawing the creature away with sound before he even knew what he was doing. It looked up from its position over Grant, its jaws red with his blood and its eyes grey and lifeless. Tori continued to scream at it, not screams of fear, but just random noise – anything to keep it distracted. He glanced down at Grant, but there was no way of telling how bad it was.

The creature's snout grew longer and it hissed, yelling back at him with rancid breath as it charged. Tori waited to dodge until the last possible moment, leaping to the side and swiping at it with the blade.

The creatures had always been smart. It grabbed at him with a bony arm, catching him in its biting grip, the bones under his skin shifting uncomfortably.

"Y'UH!" He called, slicing the arm off with a dagger. The creature howled, the bloody stump already growing into a shorter, thinner hand of claws. Tori tumbled to the ground with a clatter, pushing himself up, winded, as powerful jaws snapped centimeters away from his head.

Tori dodged yet again as there was commotion from the back as the Stinger that had been sniffing around outside decided to join in the fun. They both lunged, Tori caught in the middle, when there was a powerful yell and a long, silver sword dug through one's neck and in one follow swipe its head was gone. This surprised the other creature and it stopped just long enough for Tori to plunge his dagger into the heart. It crumpled underneath him like sand.

He turned; his father standing before him, bathed in silver glow from his perilous blade. He looked like a true warrior in that moment and Tori was pained to think of it. _I'm the reason he's here and he can't go home._

"My son," Fandral exclaimed, walking urgently over to the boy and clasping his shoulder. "Are you alright?" The same pare of absorbing blue eyes looked at each other from replica faces. Tori nodded before letting out an exclamation and running behind the counter, Fandral like a shadow behind him.

Grant Rogers lay in a pool of blood. His chest was shredded open in the most inhumane way; folds of skin hanging out like loose hairs in a braid. His skin was grey and cold to the touch, his face contorted in excruciating pain as his eyes looked upward. Tori reached down to check for a pulse, glancing sorrowfully up at his father when he found none. Fandral could do nothing but nod his head dejectedly and sheath his sword. Tori began to pull his hand away when Grant took in a sharp breath of air, his chest heaving up and down rapidly as his throat let out one more shocking screech of agony and he fell over limp on the floor. Tori was wide-eyed as he looked to his father for advice.

"This one does not give up," his father chuckled, reaching down to pick up Tori's board and hand it to him. "Come, let's get him back to the tower."

* * *

 **A/N:**

Hey guys, Ivy here! Thanks so much for the reads and reviews.

Unfortunately, I am leaving for Spain in a little over 24 hours and I will be gone for a month- meaning no updates until I get back. I'm excited to leave you with a bunch of cliffhangers because I am an evil person, and I hope you all will be patient with me and keep tabs on the story as I return and updates become frequent again.

Until then, please enjoy this little chapter I've cooked up for you. If you are in dire need of a good fic to read, I encourage you all to check out _Go Ask Him About Peggy_ by SheHatesWriting - it's amazing and fabulous and she will _not_ be leaving her readers to hang for a month :))

Lots of love and see you all when I get back with some major trip scenes and plot twists,

Ivy


	9. 312 --

**Earth 312**

 **Pre-Invasion**

* * *

The apartment building laughed down at her from where she stood on the sidewalk, head craned up and dark eyes squinted against the blinding sun. She white-knuckled the suitcase as a faint breeze blew strands of orange into her face, a sudden car door closing jolting her from her trance. Then Tony was there with the other suitcase and her backpack slung across one shoulder as his other one brushed hers. Together they looked up, searching for that familiar corner apartment on the third story.

"Come on, Carles." Tony tried to make his voice soft and comforting – tried to make it do anything except sound as harsh and commanding as it came out. He was the first to take another step forward, expecting her to follow and turning back when she didn't. She continued to crane her neck up in discomfort, her eyes twitching slightly. _Maybe I'll go blind if I don't blink._

"Carly." She forced her gaze down, transitioning her blank stare to his sunglasses. He wore his famous Black Sabbath t-shirt and jeans but he was just a shell of the man he used to be.

"You don't have to send me away." As a kid Carly had adored the way Tony wore sunglasses everywhere. He was that cool guy you saw walking on the street – wishing that you had just an _ounce_ of his savvy so that one day you, too, could look as cool. He was dramatic; a quality he never seemed to shake. Always knowing when to rip the glasses off and declare something wild with that impertinent tone he never failed to utilize, or when to close the conversation and slide them on, shrugging off his problems and strutting away. She used to view them as his defense mechanism – because, as she came to find out, that's the way he saw them – but they weren't. They were for offense; his greatest weapon. _Yea, say something else – I dare you._ They gave him confidence, helping him keep up his Tony Stark façade for years. Even now, he was cool and collected, but Carly knew he was just a scared old man. All his life – that's all he'd ever been. Scared.

"Oh stop. You're going to the Parker's for God's sake," Tony shook his head while visibly holding in a sigh. "Sending you away. Listen to yourself." She stared hard at his shaded eyes – wishing anything that he would just take them off. Because, growing up, she didn't need snarky, savvy Tony Stark. She needed strong, genius Tony Stark who had emotions and used to laugh and smile. In that moment, staring into the black lenses, there was nothing more in the world that she hated than fucking sunglasses.

"Come on, here, take this." He grabbed her arm and slung the backpack strap onto her shoulder, the invisible eye-roll obvious in his tone. She let her gaze fall to her shoes, her other arm letting go of the suitcase to secure the other strap. Was he looking at her? Were his eyes dry and angry or were they sad and guilty? Looking down at her was he disappointed? Mad? Ashamed? Anger welled up in her chest as she kicked the stone step in front of her and pushed her hair out of her face.

"Well I'm not their responsibility! Send me to Mom or something! Isn't that kind of the point of having parents – sucking up to one when you piss the other one off?" Tony pursed his lips and snapped his fingers together, hitting his closed fist into the palm of his other hand. It was a habit of his, not only did Tony always have to be moving, but without alcohol around he needed an outlet for his emotions.

"Well then you have a lot of sucking up to do, you've really been pissing me off." Tony breathed in deeply, repeatedly snapping his fingers. "Go." It was a harsh command, angering Carly further as she grumbled past him, violently yanking her suitcase up the stairs. She never got anything more about her mother than 'she's on a business meeting' or 'we've decided to go vacationing in Peru/Argentina/Chile/Bangcock/Bejing/AUSTRAILIA/WHEREVER THE HELL WE WANT AS LONG AS IT'S AWAY FROM YOU BECAUSE WE BOTH HATE YOU WHY THE HELL DO YOU THINK PEPPER NEVER COMES HOME –'

Carly balled her hand into a fist and punched the elevator button, her face an amalgamation of thin lines, melting together to form pure anger. Tony said nothing as he stood behind her, both of them squeezing in as the doors dinged open.

* * *

The moon found its home within the highest reaches in the sky as Roman pressed his face into the cold metal bars, straining with everything he had to catch the briefest of glimpses. As he pulled away, unsatisfied, long lines were left imprinted on his haunted face and his chains rattled the familiar language of the only company he had.

For so long the moon had been his friend. It had been the only thing keeping him sane throughout all of it; nights afraid and alone as he gazed through the bars and counted the stars. He would whisper secrets to the moon and she would listen – for hours – until it was time for her to sleep. She would always come back; even if she were hidden by clouds, Roman could feel her presence. The thought of reaching the outside world again had meant freedom. It had always meant freedom.

But he wasn't so sure anymore. Not with what the man wanted from him.

A muddled whine left his parted lips as he slid down the wall, his head coming to rest against it with a dull thump, his arms resting against the cool concrete below him, the tiring resistance from the chains that wore against his wrists temporarily eased. Looking outside now – it pained him. Roman liked to think himself a humble guy, as un-humble as that might sound, but he had determined long ago that he couldn't rightfully sentence someone to a life of hell on the chance that he could get a little break – especially an innocent girl like her.

* * *

Tony and Carly stood outside of the Parker's door, silent breaths puffing through their noses in a mix of emotion. Peter wasn't home, thankfully, which meant he had enough time to knock and leave before pregnant MJ waddled to the door.

He turned to his daughter, his mouth twitching slightly. What was there left to tell her?

"I suppose," he started, scratching at the back of his neck, "We'll have to work this all out when I fix this mess."

Carly shrugged, her eyes trained on the ground. "Yea, I guess." Tony felt the hundredth pang of guilt for the day, but forced himself to push it down. He knew they both doubted they would ever figure anything out – it was way too far along for a simple conversation to even help what was going on, let alone fix it. But he'd be damned if he didn't at least try.

"I promise." That got Carly to look up for the briefest second – when had her eyes gotten so dull? – But then she rolled her eyes and turned her head away. She didn't believe him. It was fair enough, Tony wasn't sure where the words had come from. He didn't believe himself either. He wanted to, more than anything, but he knew he had waited far too long to start trying. He was the man he always feared he would become. He was Howard Stark.

His eyes closed briefly in inner torment, a soft sigh leaving his lips. He reached out to grab Carly's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. She turned to him, tears brimming in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Dad." She didn't try to hide them from him as they fell down her cheeks and she ran into his chest and hugged him. Tony couldn't remember their last embrace. Was she seven? Younger? His arms cautiously wrapped around her, but he had no time to process his emotions properly. All he knew was that there was love –

"Let me come to Wakanda with you." –

And betrayal.

"No." She looked up then, confusion in her sad, dull eyes as Tony gently pulled away from her.

"Why?" She demanded simply, her arms coming to cross over her chest as her mouth quivered and her tears ran faster.

A single tear spilled over the edge of his eye. "Because I can't trust you."

And that was why he wore sunglasses.

* * *

The door softly creaking open woke Roman from his light slumber. Pale green eyes stared ahead at the concrete wall in front of his face, his hands clenching under the pretend safety of his blanket in anticipation. There were faint footsteps that quickly stopped, causing Roman's heart to beat rapidly. To call it unmanly that he was still terrified by his capturer was unfair – especially after Roman grew throughout the years but _he_ didn't. His face never changed and that was scary enough; remembering everything else caused him to shudder.

"Wakey, wakey, Roman-cakey." Faux kindness oozed from his velvet voice, but it quickly turned bitter and harsh as Roman refused to turn around. There was a slight pause and then, terrifyingly, he began to shout. "Do not think me foolish, cretin! I know you are awake – LOOK AT ME!" There was a large thud and Roman sat straight up, his body visibly shaking as he forced himself to turn around.

The monster smirked. "There's a good boy."

* * *

MJ opened the door with a grandeur smile. "Carly Stark, it's about time you showed up here again." Her long brown hair was tied behind her head in some sort of messy bun thing that almost made Carly smile. MJ looked crazy, but she totally rocked it. She let out a soft sigh after realizing she couldn't even begin to fake a smile, let alone pretend words to hide what they both knew was happening. _Everything is my fault. My own father can't trust me. I messed up so bad that Tony fricken Stark can't even look me in the eye._ She sniffed, using every molecule in her body to hold it together and not break down in front of the already stressed pregnant lady.

MJ gave her a sorrowful look, cooing softly and taking one of the suitcases before Carly could protest. "Peter's out looking at the house again; we're trying to get the owners to go down a bit more," MJ was explaining, waddling slowly through the apartment. "We moved Winter to stay with Athena and Benji so you can have your own room." Carly shook her head.

"MJ, no, it's fine. I can sleep on the couch." MJ turned to look back at her, her lips pressed together and her eyes daring Carly to argue again.

"Yea, no. I will not have my favorite Stark sleeping on our cheap-ass couch for who knows how long. Besides, my kids are well behaved. They know how to share." Carly hummed in response, feeling increasingly like a gigantic burden to the world.

"Ta-da!" MJ did small jazz hands as they reached the room. "Welcome back to your room, Carly. We've been getting ready for the baby so it's not exactly the same, but...we couldn't bear to change too much." Carly's breath caught in her throat. _Welcome back to your room, Carly._ MJ was still laughing. "You've had a lasting impact on us; Pete and I have missed seeing you on those weekends." She vaguely felt a hand rubbing her back as she stared hard at the door, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "I'll call you when dinner's ready."

The words went unheard to Carly's ears. _You've had a lasting impact on us._ She felt empty inside. Her shaking hand reached for the doorknob, her eyes traveling up the door as it opened, pausing as they reached the familiar place where the words had been, now only faded shadows remaining. It had only been the guest room for the first few weeks they owned the apartment, then, because Tony and Pepper were busy with their business meetings and vacations and various other excuses, it became… _'Carly's Room'._ Her fingers traced over the faded marks gently, a pained smile coming to rest on her face.

As she pushed the door all the way open the memories flooded her mind. Ever since she could remember she had come to the Parker's place at least one mandatory weekend out of every month. They were her forgotten second family; newlywed Peter and MJ doted on her like she was their own. Her hand traced over the doorway in disbelief, black lines surrounded by dates marked her height throughout the years, each one traced over so it was never forgotten.

 _"Measure me again!"_ Little Carly eagerly grinned at her from years past, then looked through her to a smiling MJ and exasperated Peter.

 _"You're not going to be any taller than you were five minutes ago," he chided with a chuckle, but MJ pinched his arm and handed him the marker._

 _"Kids are weird," she urged, pushing him towards a waiting red-head, "You never know what strange things might happen." MJ gasped and eyed her suspiciously, "What if she grew five inches?" Carly giggled excitedly, looking up at Peter with the world in her eyes, and he couldn't say no to that._

Carly closed the door, spinning around the room in bittersweet glee. MJ was right; a lot had changed. Soft grey walls provided comfort and happy little yellow ducks smiled up at her as she brushed her tears away and ran her hand across them. A small crib stood in the corner next to an inflated air mattress with her old Iron Man sheets _'so Daddy can be with me every night.'_

As she laid down and grabbed a pillow to muffle her sobs she glanced up – the glow in the dark galaxy Peter had set up for her when he realized she was scared of the dark blinked down at her, the gentle green light caressing her soothingly.

* * *

"I won't do what you want." For a man who currently felt both helpless and _hope_ less, Roman's words were laced with power.

The man smiled from above Roman who was crouched over, kneeling on the floor. "We'll see about that." His hand twitched and Roman screamed out in terror, his body convulsing with pain as he crumpled to the floor.

"You can torture me all you want…" The man's foot rested on his side, and with a gentle push sent Roman's arms buckling and he hit the floor with his face.

"And let me guess: you won't change your mind?" The man tsked at him. "Shame. Well, luckily for you, I've found a bit of motivation." The man walked over to Roman, who lay there unchained and miserable, and crouched down beside him. He grabbed Roman's face and turned it gently, his thumb caressing the sharp angels and scared features. His voice was a whisper. "Would you like to meet your parents?"

* * *

"Carly! Dinner!" She sat up groggily, messily wiping away the mixture of tears and drool that had found its way to her chin as she dozed off.

The table was a holy site. MJ and the three children sat around it like angels, piles of steaming food on their plates and on silver serving trays placed beautifully at every available spot. It hurt a little to see, but it was the good kind of hurt. Familiar, bittersweet pain.

"You ordered Chinese and put it in fancy stuff," Carly smiled, sliding in her seat as MJ filled up another decorative plate and placed it in front of her.

MJ quirked an eyebrow and looked at her slyly. "I don't know what you're talking about. Now shut up and give me your goblet so I can fill it with orange soda." She did as told, watching idly as it was set back down in front of her and MJ turned to fill up Athena's sippy cup with more orange sugary goodness. "Use both hands," MJ instructed her, but the words were far away and cloudy to Carly's ears as she stared down at her food with tears in her eyes.

This was just like they used to get _every time she came._ They didn't have too much money back then – Chinese takeout had been their savior. And whenever Carly had a bad day MJ would always serve it to her on a silver platter as they set up TV trays and watched reruns of _The Simpsons_. Those weekends had been her entire life back then; sneaking into carnivals and helping MJ goad Peter into spending what little money he had left on junk food and sodas. Being given her first pair of roller blades and spending the next months falling and scraping her knees but always smiling as MJ bandaged her up and encouraged her to try again. Hot summer days when the three of them would chase ice-cream trucks and Peter would always have to buy her another one when she inevitably dropped the first one because she got distracted by MJ's funny faces and the shapes of the clouds. The crisp winter days spent bundled up inside, cutting out crude snowflakes from printer paper and making Peter hang them up until there was no wall space, anywhere. The three of them always burning the cookies – MJ couldn't cook anything and Peter was laughable at best – but decorating them anyways and then making Peter go to the store to buy real cookies and hot chocolate so they could snuggle and watch Christmas movies. And every December, with no fault, there would always be an extra present under the tree with her name on it.

"Mommy, why is Carly crying?" Carly looked up to see everyone staring at her, Winter quickly going back to stabbing her grape when they made eye contact. _Where did she get a grape?_

"Why aren't you eating your Lo Mein?" MJ retorted, quickly diverting the attention and smiling gently at Carly when everyone went back to doing their own things. Carly was about to express her gratitude for absolutely everything in her entire life, when Athena dropped her cup. Faster than Carly thought humanly possible MJ grabbed it before things got messy and handed it back to her, leaning over as best she could with her pregnant belly. _And then MJ got pregnant and I had to stop coming because Tony and Pepper didn't want me to distract them from starting their own family._

"I told you to use two hands. Benji, help your sister." Benji looked up from shoving noodles down his esophagus and MJ laughed, complete and udder adoration in her eyes. Carly didn't blame her; the kid was pretty damn cute. How do you blame a kid that cute for ruining your happiness?

MJ leaned over to her next. "Eat."

* * *

"These people aren't my parents – they have no idea who I am!" Roman scoffed from his spot on the ground, his eyelids heavy as he watched the strangers in front of him scream and cower together. The last ten minutes had been utterly insane. The thought of seeing his parents again after all these years was a bit overwhelming and he had started to have a panic attack, but then these people walked in and were so completely unfamiliar to Roman that he had to stop, think, and realize; he couldn't remember what his parents looked like. It didn't help any that they had absolutely no idea who he was yet the man was insistent that he had found the right people.

He knelt down to them, gently caressing the woman's face as she gaped in terror. "Molly and Jack, right? Are you telling me you really don't remember your own son?" His gaze held the same kindness as his voice, Roman watching as he stood up and turned toward Roman with a sigh. "Sorry, chap, looks like they gave up on you." There was an evil glint in his dark eyes and Roman fought for anything. He knew what was next to come so he gazed over at the whimpering couple, arms wrapped around each other securely.

"Roman Thomas Fitzgerald. I was taken when I was six – I'm your son!" He screamed pleadingly, even though he knew that the only person in the room who believed him was the crazy maniac. These people weren't his parents, but he had to try.

They both shook their heads, the woman clinging to Jack as she started to cry. "Our son was Leopold James Fitzgerald and he _died_ when he was six!" She sobbed into his jacket and forcefully closed her eyes. "Jack, make it stop!" Jack glanced up – the man's back was to him. His arms loosened around his wife. Roman's eyes widened as he scrambled to reach an arm out.

"Jack, don't!" But it was too late. Jack launched himself at the man who smirked darkly and gently raised his hand, his fingers bent like he was holding an apple. Jack immediately dropped to the ground clutching his head, agonizing screams leaving his mouth as Molly cried in the corner. The man continued to look at Roman.

"I'm telling you; these are your parents. But I suppose you don't believe, not that it matters, because you're still going to follow through with our little plan." Roman's eyes darkened as he stared the man down, his own fists clenching at his sides.

"And why would I do that?"

"Because I know how your mind works, and it's your choice. A girl who is," he shrugged, "supposedly innocent, or these two truly innocent ex-parents who have done absolutely nothing to deserve this." Roman's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. _He's good. He's too good._ A dark feeling of dread began to fill his insides, seeping through his skin like contagion.

* * *

Carly cleared the table as MJ got her kids ready for a late night walk. They were going to meet Peter at the park and be a cute family together – something Carly didn't really need at the moment so she had turned them down. As she washed another plate idly, she heard MJ behind her.

"Winter, you've been stabbing at that grape all night. Why don't you eat something?" Carly turned, watching the small pale child as she chased the same grape from earlier around her plate with the fork, messily stabbing and missing it. She looked up as she was called out, sticking the fork in her mouth and chewing on it.

"I don't want Chinese," she whined, and MJ rolled her eyes in amusement. As Athena began to cry from the next room over, she sighed and looked to Carly.

"Can you take care of this?" Carly nodded softly and MJ padded away to see what had happened now. Carly turned to the small child and leaned against the counter, her fingers drumming on the hard surface.

"You have to eat something." Winter chewed on her fork. "Dumpling. Eggroll. Fortune cookie." Each option earned her a shaking head, sometimes so energetic that Carly was half worried the kid was seizuring. She sighed. "Well, then pick something. What do you want to eat?"

Winter grinned at her, a mess of white hair, pale skin, and blue eyes. "Ice cream."

Carly grinned as she opened the freezer door. "Yea, sounds like something your dad would feed you when your mom's not looking, right?" She plopped the container down in front of her, watching as she grinned and nodded, attacking the container with her grape-stained fork.

"Carly Stark!" MJ scolded as she reappeared, glaring warmly as she carried Athena in her arms and held onto Benji with the other one.

"She's seven!" Was the only thing Carly said in defense, watching MJ shake her head with a smirk and then they were gone, the door closing gently behind them as Carly let out a small smile and she moved to grab her own spoon when there was a flash of movement outside of the window. She blinked her eyes, squinting into the darkness as she held the spoon in her hand like a weapon.

"Put the ice-cream away and get ready for bed," she told Winter who begrudgingly complied, sliding out of the chair. Carly listened as the freezer door open and closed, and waited until the bathroom door clicked shut until she walked over to the window and peered outside. Nothing.

However, Carly was smarter than that. Even if she wasn't specially trained like the rest of the Avenger children, she had watched _Scream_ enough times to know that checking one window wouldn't suffice. She slowly surveyed the apartment, coming to her room and opening the door with a soft click. Her heart pounded in her chest, her eyes going wide as she shakily stepped inside, spoon at the ready.

As her eyes met the window she almost screamed, drawing a hand over her mouth as she jumped in surprise and clutched at her heart. Ozur grinned at her from the other side of the glass, giving a small, apologetic wave. She took a few seconds to catch her breath before opening the window to let him climb in.

"You could have just knocked on the door like a normal person!" She scolded in a hushed tone, not wanting to draw Winter out of the bathroom. Ozur was sheepish, but shook his head.

"You wouldn't have noticed me at the door," he said and Carly put the spoon down, looking wildly at him.

"I would have if you knocked!" He let out a charming laugh, his chest shaking slightly as he shook his head.

"No – that's what I meant – I'm not actually here." His body shimmered for a moment before it disappeared and Carly was slightly taken aback. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and she squawked, turning around in surprise to see Ozur trying to hold in a laugh.

"Why are you here?" She asked calmly as she tried to still her beating heart. The kind smile never left his long face, his hands resting clasped behind his back as he gazed at her.

"I can't just come to talk?" He asked and Carly gave a confused smile.

"I guess?" She responded, and they both went to talk again when Winter's voice called out for her. Carly's head snapped to the door and then back to Ozur only to find that he was no longer there.

* * *

Mack sat on the couch in his apartment, a beer pressed to his lips as he flipped through TV channels. He sighed, a nonstop plague tainting his mind.

 _"Come on, man – what about your kid?" Mack tried to talk some sense into him, his strong stature looming over Sasha as he begged his best friend to stay. His dark hand rested on Sasha's shoulder, his eyes pleading and filled with sorrow. "Man, if you won't do it for me, then do it for her."_

 _Sasha looked up at him with pain in his eyes and a gentle smile on his face. "I am, Mack. What if there's little girls just like her over there? Scared and alone and in need of help. Winter's safe here – we can't guarantee that for whoever's over there."_

He sighed, turning the device off and sinking back into the couch. The alcohol was callous as it poured down his throat but he didn't want it to stop. First Tripp, and now Sasha. But this was different; when Tripp died and crumbled away, Mack got upgraded to from SHIELD agent to Avenger status. With Sasha going away…Mack was left with no one.

His phone buzzed, a little alarm going off in the back of his head as he ignored it and went to drink the rest of the beer. It pressed against his lips easily, rising until it was barren and dry and he got up to grab another as his phone went off again.

"Damn thing," he mumbled, his hand reaching to turn it off as his dark gaze caught the screen. "Perimeter breech at Parker's place?" He read, his eyes going wide as the bottle dropped and he reached under the couch. Only one thought was running through his mind; _Winter_. His hand came back with his precious shotgun-axe hybrid, and his lips pursed as his eyes narrowed with determination.

* * *

Carly lay in her bed watching the glowing galaxy above her head for what felt like hours. Her eyes followed the curving lines and phony looking stars as a way to distract herself from thought, her eyes tired and heavy but unable to sleep. Images of the past days flashed in her mind but she pushed them down before they could properly form, her eyes vacant as they shifted from planet to planet.

There was a noise in the kitchen and she sat up, tiredly wiping her face. She looked at the clock gently clicking in the corner, figuring it made sense that Peter and his family would be getting home. She nodded idly, getting up with swampy limbs to get a drink of water from the kitchen and thank him for his hospitality. As her hand left the doorknob and she stepped into the hallway, she completely forgot that she never heard the apartment door opening.

The kitchen was dark when she got there. She looked around in mild concern, wondering if it had been Winter that she had heard. She sighed and grabbed a glass, filling it with tap water and raising it to her lips as she turned to go back to her room.

Standing there, his back turned to Winter's room, was a dark figure. Carly gasped, the water spilling over her glass and onto the floor. Green eyes peered at her from the shadows, Carly gazing past his shoulder to see that the door was still closed. She looked back at him; he had taken a step forward.

Every muscle in her body froze. She wasn't prepared for this – nothing in her life had ever prepared her enough to actually come face to face with something like _this_. Her lips trembled and felt dry as she hands shook, the water sloshing around recklessly.

"Get out," she ordered, her voice raspy and scared. He took another step forward, the moonlight coming through the window illuminating his scarred face and gentle eyes. He was looking at her, just staring, his expression sorrowful and reluctant. Carly's mind raced to think of something to do, but she couldn't take her eyes off of him.

"You're Carly, right? Carly Stark?" He asked soothingly, holding his hands up in surrender. She eyed him warily.

"Who's asking?" A shallow breath left his lips as her gaze flicked to the room again and he followed it. She instantly cursed at herself, fully prepared to lunge at him if he dared try to open it. He turned back to her with some sort of emotion in his eyes – sadness? Maybe that was it; undeniable sadness.

"I'm not here for her," he spoke slowly, his gaze flickering to the ground.

"Then what do you want…with me?" She whispered, her breaths coming in short gasps. She looked the man over, realizing that he didn't look much older her. His pants were too short and the short-sleeve showed off more scars on his arms and neck. She met his gaze again, and he tried to smile at her.

"My name is Roman," he offered, scratching his neck awkwardly. "I uh, don't think I was supposed to tell you that." He paused, but then continued, taking another step towards her as she scrambled back. "I don't want to do this. I refused to do this…for so long." Carly was crying now, every bone in her body like jelly as she tried not to melt and sob.

"Do what?" She croaked, looking at the apartment door out of the corner of her eye. He shook his head softly at her.

"Don't." He warned, but she wasn't listening. She lunged, the glass falling from her hand to shatter on the floor. Glass and water went everywhere as she scrambled for the doorknob, reaching for it as Roman stepped in her way. Her hand retracted back, hot sticky tears stinging her cheeks as she sobbed on her knees in front of him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his hands coming to clasp her face.

All around them the air changed, Roman's dull green eyes coming to life and sparkling like jade. It was like reality changed all around them, getting sucked into something behind her as a green light illuminated her world and she was pushed back. Like slow motion her mouth opened in an empty scream; her hands reaching out to grasp at nothing as she fell through green darkness, watching helplessly as it closed in front of her, the soft face of Roman ashamedly watching her sink further and further in. And then it closed and she was falling.


	10. 216 --

**Earth 216**

 **Eight Months and Twenty-Three Days After Invasion**

* * *

Everyone was already standing when they brought Grant's body back. Roy had his hand on Jamie's shoulder as her eyes looked around wildly; like an animal caught in a trap. And, oh boy, this animal _really_ wanted to leave. Sasha and Shay were off to the side silently conversing ( _this could have been one of us. This could have been Winter_ ) while Steve, Bucky, Clint, and some girl named Anna Marie stood in front of the exits to keep the rabid Jamie from escaping. Cat and Sam were over by Jace who was still rubbing his jaw; purple and blue from Jamie's rage. Everyone else was out looking or had never returned and that was exactly why they all risked their lives to keep her _in_.

The body was freezing, Jamie was crying, and Roy, who had prepared a multitude of jokes for any and every scenario that could walk through that door, could never have been prepared enough for this.

Tori had said he was sorry.

Sasha had sucked in a deep breath – _"What are we gonna tell Rogers?"_

Steve had looked up, because, _oh yea_ , in another world the shreds of this body were his son.

And Jamie…Oh, Jamie….

She clutched to the corpse as it was lowered to the ground, blood pooling from everywhere and staining her soul. She choked and sobbed and hovered over his broken chest to stroke his young face all the while screaming that it was her fault; that it always had been; that it always would be.

But never, not once, did she look up with hope in her eyes and tell them that it would be okay, because Roy knew Jamie was a sensible person, so he knew she could see the fragments of bone littering his open wounds and the oozing stump where his left arm used to be.

Roy watched as people slowly started to file out of the room. He was sure they knew what loss was, what it felt like. But this was different. This wasn't one of their own. This death was that of someone who came to help them; this wasn't the death of a man – it was the death of _a boy._

Roy watched, frozen, petrified, as Tori and Fandral walked away, their uniforms stained with the dark blood of his teammate. The Anna chick shook her head as if to say ' _too bad_ ', said some soft words to Jamie, and took her leave. Even Jace looked a little less angry about his deformed face as he licked his lip and turned away. Roy was vaguely aware of someone else crying. Cat, maybe.

He was angered into moving by Sam. Sam Rogers with his hard eyes. Sam Rogers who stared at the dead body with those eyes, who disgraced it. Sam Rogers with the look like he knew it was going to happen – and he could have stopped it if it where he who went out looking instead of Tori, but he would never be man enough to say it.

Sam Rogers who Roy lunged at. Sam Rogers who pinned him to the floor and hit him and hit him because Roy Strange attacked Sam Rogers and Roy Strange did not have his magic. If only he had his magic…

Sam Rogers who was ripped away by a scowling Jace while Steve looked on in shock. _Is this my son? Was he ever going to stop?_

Jamie Rogers who never looked back, not even once, not to see Sam's repulsive gaze, not to watch Roy defend Grant Rogers for the first time in his entire life, not to see the shock on Steve's face as his son handed Roy's ass to him, not once for she couldn't bear to look away from Grant's deformed face, mouth open in agonized howl and eyes so full of fear and anger.

If only he had his magic.

* * *

Finn Eisenhardt hated the world and everyone in it. His younger sister, Edie, knew that, but she could still remember those sweet days when he was shy and oblivious, following her around like a shadow even though he was eight years older. Even as an adult he was in the background, smiling politely and letting the world spin by in a blur of unjust rage. This change in him, this animalistic hatred for everything, had happened very recently – eight months and twenty-three days ago, to be exact. Yes, that was right. Today was the eight-months-and-twenty-third-day anniversary of the day Finn Eisenhardt's sister saved the world. And as a thank you from the planet and all its' inhabitants; Edie was abandoned and left to die in the streets.

Finn was the only one who came back for her and carried her away to live in their father's old cabin more than half a country away – and he would never let her forget it. It wasn't like she could run away, either, for the Stinger's had ripped off her legs before Finn got there. Messed up her spine pretty bad too, among other things, so all she could do was lay in bed and let Finn feed and water her like a houseplant. This wasn't a life, and she knew it, and he knew it, but she was the world's last hope and she didn't give up hope as easily as her brother.

There were very few ways to entertain herself given that she couldn't walk, or even sit up without help. So Finn had given her permission to log onto his laptop and read his journal, though only the recent days. It would always give them something to talk about, though they usually argued given their different viewpoints on the world, and Edie liked to think she could one day know what he was thinking without reading his journal again, like the old days.

He was away right now, anyway. She grabbed the clunky silver object and opened it up.

 ** _Why the World Sucks: The Truth Through the Eyes of Phineas M. Eisenhardt._**

 ** _Entry 1,468_**

I had another dream about Father last night. He was still so disappointed in me. We just sat there, staring at each other all creepy like. We were back in the mansion, in these big, plush chairs. I wanted to go. I wanted to stand up and run away. I couldn't.

I knew that if Edie was in my place, Father would have been smiling. I knew that even in my dream.

I could tell that he was looking at me and seeing everything. I knew that as I looked at him, I saw my father, nothing more, nothing less. The way his eyes looked into mine, steeling my darkest secrets and making my heart pound upsets me still, even as I am awake and writing this.

I woke up in a cold sweat. Edie was still sleeping peacefully – or as peacefully as she could. It took me all day, but I think I can finally admit what I've been choking down my whole life. No kid should ever have to feel this way. I know Edie didn't, even though she should have.

I am terrified of my father.

* * *

Roy sat next to Jamie on the ground. She was still crying but the sobbing had stopped, replaced instead with soft whines and vacant eyes. Sam, Jace and Cat where nowhere to be found, and everyone else besides Clint, Bucky and Steve were currently, well, anywhere but there.

He felt numb. Not because Sam beat him senseless or because he was in pain, embarrassed, or angry. Sam had nothing to do with it. What had everything to do with it was the fact that Grant Rogers, his Earth's Captain America in training, lay dead by his feet.

Grant Rogers had always been a pain in his ass. Best friends with Carly since, like, ever, Captain freaking America for a father, an amazing sister who really knew how to throw down, and unimaginably good looks. Roy had always been beyond jealous. And looking to his right, to the beautiful, resilient, prodigious Jamie Rogers, his best friend in the entire world – in all the worlds – because he didn't have many other choices and she was the only one who liked him, much less tolerated him – he felt numb inside. Not the kind of empty numb that came with not knowing how to feel or what to do. No, this was the filled to the brim kind of numb that came with shame. Shame, because as he looked from crying Jamie to dead Grant, no matter how much he hated himself for it, he couldn't stop feeling just the tiniest spark of pleasure.

And it disgusted him.

Roy had never felt so ashamed to be alive than at this very moment. He felt like he didn't deserve to be in a ten mile radius of there, or anywhere. Like he didn't belong and he never would – it was an old, familiar feeling, but it crept back up on him with such newfound force that he wanted to crumple beneath it and lay prisoner to its chains.

His hand ghosted over Grant's arm. He had only the vaguest idea of what to do and all the doubt in the world that it would work. His eyes drifted to Grant's face; peaceful now as Jamie had closed his mouth and eyes and was currently occupying herself with smoothing down his hair. His eyes flickered back to the arm, cold and lifeless. He shivered as he made contact, fingers gently squeezing around the bicep as his eyes closed in concentration.

There was nothing. No sense of life force, no sense of magic, no fluttering feeling of the possibility of anything. Roy dove deeper into self-loathing. He wasn't himself. He had no jokes, nothing to laugh at or make fun of. In fact, since seeing Grant's body and feeling that grain of glee, Roy hadn't spoken a single word. Not to Jamie, not as he lunged himself at Sam, not anything to anybody.

He squeezed the pale flesh harder, hating the way it moved against his hand. Roy tried with everything he had. He didn't even know what he was trying to do. He felt like he was just sitting there, grabbing some dead guy's arm and squeezing it real hard – because that's exactly what was going on. But nobody stopped him.

Roy squeezed harder. His face scrunched in concentration. _Do something,_ he urged himself over and over, the words like fire in his mind. _God, are you good at anything? Why are you even here?_ The words were like poison, fueling the raging flames as they went higher and higher and Roy felt like he was burning from the inside out. _You're worthless. You came here to help – and look at you now._ Tears welled in the corner of his eyes. _Is that all you got? DO SOMETHING._

There was a loud, earsplitting pop. Roy felt like someone had taken an axe to his brain; his chest ached like heartburn. Heads snapped around in his direction as Roy slowly opened his eyes, the world around him a dark, dizzying blur. He could faintly make out Jamie's teary face as she looked at him with confusion and then—

Grant's first breath back from the dead.

Roy didn't know who was more surprised between the six of them.

Jace came running into the room. "What was that?" And then, "Oh my God," as he stared at newly living Grant who began to convulse and spasm on the floor, fresh blood oozing from his wounds as his heart began to pump again and his eyes blinked open and his mouth let out moans and groans of incomprehensible agony.

"Grant?" Jamie exclaimed, looking wide-eyed at her brother, Roy, her brother, Roy. Then Fandral as he and Tori came running in. "Help him!" She begged. Roy stood up.

"I need to go." He stumbled out of the room, his head spinning and threatening to fall off. He let out a groan as he clutched the wall, and then his head.

"Roy," he struggled to turn around, to see who had called his name. His vision was pure white, burnt on the edges with black darker than obsidian. "Roy, it's me, Clint. Are you okay?"

"Yea," he managed, feeling sticky blood begin to gush out of his nose as the world spun left and his legs gave out.

* * *

As Edie closed the laptop with an emotionally confused sigh, she saw Finn standing at the edge of her bed, pitcher of water and glass in his hands. He studied the glass as he poured, his gentle brown eyes traveling with the water.

"You're afraid of Dad?" She asked, watching as he took the computer from her grasp and traded it for the glass. She watched him watch the ground as he walked around the small room, adjusting things and occupying his hands while he tried to ignore her.

She put the drink down and shook her head at him. "Finn," she said, strong this time despite being so weak. She hated to upset him; they used to be so close. But recently, well, recently it felt like he was a stranger. A simple ghost of the brother he used to be.

"I think your eyes are going bad," he said lightly, smiling gently in her direction as he watered the plants around her and opened the window so she could feel the sun on her skin. "It actually says terrified, but I guess scared could work too."

"You've never had any reason to be scared of him," she defended without hesitation, noticing and not liking the way Finn tensed at her words. Who was this man?

His lips pursed and his thumb scratched at the glass handle of the container. "I think you know that's not true," he replied, his words as timid and docile as his eyes.

Edie struggled to sit up, to shift, to do anything. Her frustration of not being able to do so echoed in her words. "Our father was a hero."

Finn had been watching her from the doorway; his hands now free as he leaned cautiously against it and watched her with those big, sad, doe eyes that she used to love so much. He was always one to flee from a fight, to avoid any sort of confrontation whatsoever. He would push it down and hold it there, letting his words flow briefly across the screen as his only outlet. Edie had grown up knowing that they were different people, but it had always felt different than this. This was a different type of different – a dangerous one that only concluded with the revelation that these two people, the last to care about each other, were not, after all, compatible.

He kept looking at her with that gaze of his, his age eight years older but his eyes eight years younger. She waited for him to walk away. What she didn't expect was his words before he did so.

"Our father was a murderer."

* * *

Roy woke up with a start. There was an all too real pounding in his head and a faint wetness on his face – had he been drooling? As his breaths came in labored pants and his eyes took in his surroundings, Clint came straight away to hover over him, though it was obvious he didn't have the slightest clue what to do. He just sort of stood there, watching cautiously as Roy's head whipped around and he gasped and gasped like he'd never tasted air before—but oh – it was so good.

Through all of his head wagging and eye blinking Roy had noticed a significant amount more of the room than people might have expected him to. It was quite a lot different than all the other rooms, and it was on the floor above the balcony, obvious from the amount of sunlight pouring through the large glass windows that overlooked the fragmented remains of the city. The room had a lot of technical equipment in it – no, medical – which meant that they were using it as the med room but it hadn't always been, as the walls and outlay of the room showed signs of previous furniture placement. This meant that previous medical supplies had been at least a couple floors up, probably taken out by the invasion and what useable equipment remained, bent and broken, had been moved down to the next available space.

Roy also knew that the equipment must still be working because mechanical beeps and whirs filled his head as he stopped moving and gazed to the side, because he had no machines hooked up to his body, so that had to mean that in the bed next to him, the lady with the red hair and pale skin, was Natasha Romanoff and she was in very, very bad condition.

"Uh, you doing okay?" _Right, Clint's here._ Roy turned his head, looking up at the archer with as much seriousness as he had ever looked at anybody before. Unknown to most due to Roy's c _harming_ personality, he was actually a lot smarter than anyone ever gave him credit for. You see, even as he worked to steady his breath, even as he wondered what happened to Black Widow, even as he had just woke up and still felt completely, utterly drained; he already had a working theory of what had happened. And he needed confirmation – hopefully something Clint couldn't give him.

"I need to speak to my father," Roy croaked out, reaching out with a shaky hand to raise the bed into a sitting position. Clint scratched his neck.

"He'll have to take a message." Roy shook his head – he needed Clint to entertain him. To tell him that Roy was missing some big part of this puzzle, and the current conclusion growing stronger and stronger in his head was just his mind thinking up the worst thing it could.

"Stephan Strange. I need to speak to this world's Stephan Strange. Doctor Stephan Strange, please," His voice was still hoarse as he insisted his demands, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and slipping just once as he tried to stand. Clint secured an arm around him, lifting him up and trying to lay him down again but Roy shook his head.

"Whoa there, Frankenstein – do you know what you just did? I'd take a little rest." But he didn't try to move Roy any further. Roy was tempted to laugh. _Yes – Frankenstein—I suppose I did create a monster._

"I just rose my not-so-favorite Rogers from the dead, so, yes, I know exactly what I've done," Roy answered coolly, getting increasingly tired of the way his head weighed twice as much as normal. "Now, please, take me to see someone magical. Anyone. Wong, Mordo, The Ancient One, Clea – literally anyone." Clint didn't move a muscle. "Um, now," Roy commanded, and Clint made a face.

"Yea, I'm going to go get Tony up here ASAP."

Roy sighed. "Sit me down." Clint complied and helped him sit, his hands coming up to his head and his breaths became labored again.

"I'm going to have to ask…"

"Let me guess, you want to know how I did it?" Roy's voice was muffled by his hands, his eyes squeezing shut so hard that it hurt. He heard Clint's simple agreement and wanted to smile – the moment was rather funny. _Really, who would have ever guessed, me and him, up here, Widow dying besides us. What a crackpot world this is. What a fucked up…insane… crazy world._ Roy felt like his mind was slowly derailing. Dismantling piece by piece until only the edges of the puzzle were left and he either wanted to laugh or cry about it. Clint still stood three feet to his left. Roy forced in a ragged breath.

"They don't exist, do they?" He muffled again, slowly rubbing his face and lifting it up until he could visibly see Clint shaking his head.

"Sorry kid, I've got no idea who you're talking about." And he did, he looked sorry. _What a guy – he's sorry to not know people who've never existed._ Roy wanted to applaud him. Roy wanted to do a lot of things that didn't really make sense at the moment. Mostly, Roy wanted a big block of cheese on a stick.

He stood up again and Clint was right there, securing an arm against him and helping him walk.

"Where to?" He asked, and Roy actually managed a chuckle this time.

"I have a feeling there's more people than you who want to know how Grant's alive. I'm going to answer that question."

* * *

It was quickly turning into their third day on this other Earth as the sun began to rise, and the only thing Sasha knew was that he wanted to go home. It was absolutely ridiculous! He especially had a hard time wrapping his mind around the fact that Grant Rogers had died (and then he started to freak out, because he only went along to protect his daughter and watch out for these crazy kids – and then Grant went and died) and _Roy Strange_ of all people just popped him back to life.

He felt bad for Jamie. No one had said why Grant was outside, alone, after patrols had already been sent out, but no one was exactly asking yet given the total chaos that had just went down. What Sasha _did_ know was that Clint had found Roy unconscious in the hallway and had brought him up to the medical room, and Sasha was the only other person who went to visit. Roy had looked just as pale and lifeless as Grant had been just hours before, and it was worse knowing that he wasn't the only body in that room.

Now the younger Rogers was on a pile of rags in the corner of the room as some nurse he only knew as Claire operated on him because it was too risky to move him anywhere else. It was taking hours. Surprisingly, the room was crowded as everyone waited with baited breath. Some helped Claire while they could while others simply passed through to check in, or converse or switch out patrols.

Cat sat with Jamie on the couch where she had been since Claire told her to give her some space. Jace sat awkwardly next to them, constantly looking around and stiffly tapping his foot. Steve and Sam hadn't been seen for hours, and Shay, well Shay was out on another patrol.

Sasha, however, was currently kneeling on the ground in front of heavily sedated Grant, putting pressure on the harshly amputated arm as Claire worked her magic. Sasha had no prior medical training – he had been working at a dance studio before joining the team – but he couldn't just stand around and do nothing as all of this was happening, and Claire had seemed grateful for his nimble hands and quiet attitude. Others had leant their help and done their duty, but with their ever changing schedules and random emergencies, Sasha's unwavering presence made him a strong ally.

Grant still looked like a dead man to Sasha, but a significantly better dead man. His chest had been cleaned up and pieced back together so that only parts of it hung open, his minor wounds were still open and unbandaged but they were clean and no longer risked infection, and his arm had finally stopped bleeding and the flesh looked slightly less grey. Overall, Sasha figured this would be the luckiest day of Grant's life – forget his wedding.

Still, Sasha was done. He knew now, looking down at Claire's hands as she worked, he was done before he ever agreed to come. He missed his daughter. He missed Mack. He missed his dance classes. He missed keeping his powers a secret and just living a normal life – but then that contradicted everything else because if he had done that, if he had just stayed _normal,_ SHIELD would have never found him, he would have never met Mack or Shay or Fury or the Avengers and that little girl with the white hair…she would have never been born.

He put more pressure on the wound and a squirt of blood oozed out.

* * *

 ** _Why the World Sucks: The Truth Through the Eyes of Phineas M. Eisenhardt._**

 ** _Entry 1,286_**

I've decided to let Edie read these stupid things. I'm done letting this be a private outlet for my eyes only. She's been laying there – just laying there – for two months now. They just left her there; my own sister just to die on the streets. She trusted these people. And now she just lays there with nothing to do. I try to keep her occupied, I try to make her smile and laugh but I know she feels a lot of pain. I know I'm angrier than ever but I refuse to take it out on her. She tried to tell me that it doesn't hurt, but I don't believe it. Not for one moment.

You see that, Edie? I don't believe you. So go on, keep telling me that you don't feel that undeniable itch where your legs should be, keep telling me that the betrayal of all your friends, of the man you loved, doesn't tear you apart inside. And most of all: keep telling yourself that I'm enough to keep you alive, because I know we both don't believe that so maybe if you say it enough…maybe then one of us will.

So enjoy reading these stupid things, I don't know why I do it anymore. It used to feel so good. I would write away my anger and my worries and I would be happy again. I haven't felt happy in a very, very long time. But don't you ever think that's your fault. I know you didn't mean to leave me behind and do those things you did, not really.

Anyways, I know you're snoopy and that you're going to try to read the entries previous to this one even though I told you not to, so I put a lock and password on them to keep you out. There are just some things I have to keep private, even from you. I hope you understand. I hope you know that I love you, even though we don't see eye to eye on more than you could ever know. I hope you know that I'm sorry, and that I know you are, too.

I hope your pain eases soon, or that you pass along before it gets unbearable.

-Finn

* * *

Roy could almost stand without help by the time the elevator doors clicked open and Clint helped him walk out. Immediately heads swung their way as Roy let out a tired grin and held up a peace sign.

"Did you miss me?" he asked arrogantly, waving Clint away with a quick 'thanks'.

"Roy?" It was Jamie, asking his name like she forgot he existed. He looked over to her, watching as she clung to Grant's hand as he lay on the floor, his wounds dressed and healed. How long had he been out for?

Grant was still pale, lifeless, and covered in blood. Everyone was still quiet and crowded together and looking at him with many different emotions. Roy couldn't tell if Grant's chest was moving or if it was just his imagination. His smile faltered slowly. "Is he…?"

"Sedated," Clint answered, crossing his arms heavily over his sturdy chest. "Heavily. Now come on, crazypants, you gonna tell us how you did it or what?" The emotions turned expectant as the eyes stayed trained on Roy. Jamie was expectant, too, but her eyes were still glazed over and Roy was very sure that she wasn't in the same world as him.

"Yes, I am," he said as he tore his gaze from her, "but first, I have a question."

"You don't get to ask a question," Jace roared and suddenly he was all up in his face and the room was tense again. Roy knew, in that moment, that trust would be harder to earn here than anywhere else. Doubt – they were full of it, and Roy and his team had just dropped in conveniently _after_ they really needed help and Roy had just brought the dead back to life. Trust was a foreign concept far, far away.

"First you get struck by my lightning and don't die, and now you bring this shred of human flesh back to life? Who the hell are you?" Jace demanded, his electric eyes dancing with, well, electricity. Roy was never that good at explaining things.

"Would you believe me if I said 'magic'?" He asked, unflinching but tired as he looked up at Jace with calm certainty. Everyone was on their feet and ready to do something, but no one else spoke. Roy gazed around calmly as he sidestepped Jace and stood in front of him. He briefly wondered, _if Jace was there to pull Sam off of me, but Sam is gone, who's here to pull Jace off?_ But he pushed the thought away now knowing that, if he absolutely had to, he could take him.

His gaze swept the crowd around him, staying on Grant for a few seconds longer than he would have liked before he made his way calmly over to the windows, slowly building up the anticipation. Roy was a showman – he liked people groveling at his feet and hanging on his every word. He peered out of the window, their expectant silence fueling him as his mind tried to put two ends together before they did. He pulled back and pointed up, towards where the sky should have been but was now covered by Stingers kept mostly out by some slightly gleaming force field.

Roy looked at Jamie, opened, and then closed his mouth. He turned to look at Shay, and then shook his head. He looked back at Clint and company, giving a sigh and shrugging his shoulders. "I was waiting for my friends to figure it out – you see, I'm supposed to be the stupid one. But," he looked around, his lips coming to form a thin frown, "with Grant's…unfortunate state, Jamie's rather hung up on it and can't use her brain like normal." Jamie looked up at hearing her name, but it was evident there was nothing behind her eyes except grief. Roy continued, "And Sasha's just thinking about his daughter which leaves Shay, who's usually very on top of things." He paused to give her an expectant glance, like she might catch on to his ramblings and continue for him. When she didn't, Roy clicked his tongue and returned to the window. "So, by process of elimination, that leaves me." His voice trailed off at the end, his pale gaze narrowing like he wasn't ready to admit defeat yet.

Jace let out a growl. "Answer the damn question, Roy." Electricity sparked across his skin, moving up and down his arms like tiny waves only breaking to reach out and attach to anything they could reach. Roy pointed at him.

"You might want to get that checked out." Jace's lip quivered until it showed his teeth in an animalistic growl, and his muscles twitched with the great effort of restraint.

"Roy, what are we missing?" Sasha's soft gaze made Roy roll his eyes and nod; an agreement to reveal his big question. So, he wouldn't get to solve this one on his own, after all. Maybe with a little more time, but alas – time was of the essence.

"What's keeping those, uh, 'Stingers' out?" He asked, pointing back up at the sky and turning his gaze once more. When he turned back it was like his question had let everyone down – like they were disappointed. _They still don't get it._ Sometimes it was aggravating being the smartest one in a room. He sighed, heavily this time. His face twitched in confusion as something changed in Jace's eyes and he looked beyond triggered. _Was it something I said?_

"I thought it was magic," Roy explained, watching Sasha shrug and nod in agreement. "But it's not. Magic doesn't exist here, well, it didn't, or it doesn't Ah, I don't really know. So, I repeat: What's keeping the Stingers out?"

"What does it matter?" Jace snarled, the strands of energy growing longer across his skin until it nearly encased him. Roy took a step back until he was flat against the wall.

"Answer my question and you'll find out," he retorted, finally pleased with how confused Sasha and his wife looked.

"You're right, it's not magic," Clint answered and Roy rose an eyebrow.

"Then what is it?" He inquired, watching Clint wave his hand and look at the others expectantly.

"Hell if I know," he said with a dry chuckle, stepping back to let someone else come forward.

"Magnetic fields," Jace answered hotly because, apparently, if someone had to say the thing, it was going to be him. Roy's head felt like it was spinning again.

"Magnetic fields?" He echoed, closing his eyes for a few brief seconds. When he opened them, he was still confused. "How did you guys manage that?"

"It wasn't us," Cat said shyly from the corner, and Roy became increasing aggravated when everyone refused to give him a straight answer. _A little taste of my own medicine,_ he thought dryly, shaking his head slightly with a small, proud smirk.

"Then who was it?" He pushed, his gaze casting from person to person around the room as everybody suddenly became very quiet and soon enough the only sound was Jace's skin crackling with electricity as he stared hard at Roy with hate and something else, too, something inexplicably like sorrow or regret.

"A mutant," Jace betrayed himself and spoke, taking long, calming breaths to corral his wild powers.

Roy whistled. "A mutant strong enough to put magnetic forcefields around the Earth?" He tried to imagine it – no wonder why mutants were feared. If they were that powerful…

"Well, she w _as_ Magneto's daughter," Clint offered, like it explained everything. Jace had sentenced himself to the corner with Cat where she gently grabbed his arm and spoke to him soft words. Shay looked to Sasha, confused, who in turn projected that confusion onto Roy who simply nodded his head.

"Ah, yea, we've got one of those, too." He said, scratching his chin idly. Sasha gave him a face.

"Uh, Roy, we don't have Mutants." Roy blinked his eyes, the sudden realization smacking him in the face. A light blush covered his cheeks and ears as he shook his head, trying to play it off like an easy mistake as his mind once again began to freak out.

"Oh, right. My bad." He chuckled, rubbing his neck.

"Is this some kind of joke to you?" Jace demanded, Cat holding him back as he shook his head with disbelief. Roy was quick to hold his hands up in defense.

"What? No! I'm sorry – I just got confused –"

"Why don't you turn that confusion into some use and tell us why you're able to bring people back to life." Heads turned again as Steve Rogers appeared in the doorway, Sam angrily peering over his shoulder.

"I was born of magic," he began, trying to speak as slowly and carefully as he could – he often left people in the dust. "Dimensional magic, like how we all know there are different dimensions; different Earths that each has different events to them. My dad, Doctor Stephan Strange, is my Earth's Sorcerer Supreme. He's got like, super magic powers and stuff. Not important. Anyway, my mother, Christine Palmer, was dying when I was due to exit her lady parts, so my dad took me to Clea, ruler lady of the Dark Dimension, yadda yadda, and she agreed to help…er, birth me." Roy could see that he was starting to loose people. He shook his head. "Look, that's not important. What is, is that I wasn't born normally. I was born using extreme measures of some seriously dark dimensional magic. I guess you could say I have two mommies. Not funny? Okay, sorry. So my mom died but I lived – so, yay – and we came here."

"What does any of that have to do with you resurrecting the kid?" Clint asked, and Roy groaned with frustration and cast his gaze to Jamie.

"If she were in her right mind she'd see the big picture here." He took a deep breath, pursing his lips as he tried to think. "Ah, okay. So, think of it this way. Your Earth has no magic, right?" He got several nods. "No Doctor Strange, no Clea, no Ancient One. Yet here I am, absorbing lightning strikes and bringing people back to life."

"Jesus, kid, get to the point," Roy glared at Bucky and desperately wanted to punch himself in the face.

"I was born with magic – created with it," he tried again, "I carried that magic over with me through the portal. Basically, it's my life force - I'm a living battery, and right now I'm in a place where I can't be recharged."

* * *

Edie stayed up reading and re-reading his works late into the night. She sighed as she did so, shaking her head and altogether getting upset.

 _'He's a murderer._ ' Her brother's words echoed in her mind like a disease she just couldn't shake. She couldn't believe he would say that, that he would _believe_ that. She wanted to make him see what she did, know what she _knew._ He was blinded, just like all those other people who had thought the same thing. She felt betrayed by one of the two people she thought she could never get betrayed by.

But now, as she read, she knew that his betrayal ran further than she would have ever guessed – that she created this man of hatred just like the world had deceived and corrupted her father. It was a sad night of unwanted awareness that Finn had never really been uncorrupted. All her memories of her smiling brother standing far off now tainted at the thought that he stood aside not because he was shy, but because he feared his father and what he could do. It sparked something inside of her, something she never thought she would feel towards him; her own flesh and blood. But, as the night was growing darker, she learned that never was just something sad people said when they needed something to believe in.

As she scrolled it grew bigger until it crawled from the pit of her stomach and laid over her like a thin blanket. And as her eyes scanned the screen and all of her brother's false words and accusations, she claimed a name to the sacred emotion: hatred. She swaddled it up and cradled it like a baby and fed it all her disgust and empathy until it grew into a raging monster and became her only friend.

The screen was glowing in front of her when she decided to call her brother on his bullshit.

 ** _Why the World Sucks: The Truth Through the Eyes of Phineas M. Eisenhardt._**

The cursor found its place and she paused, casting her gaze down to her sleeping brother who stay sat in his chair, body crumpled over the side of her bed as he breathed peacefully.

 ** _The Truth Through the eyes of Phineas M. Eisenhardt._**

She watched him as his chest rose and fell, touched his feathery brown hair as it blew in the night breeze of the open window, and sealed their future with her soft-spoken words.

"You blame father for the faults of the lesser-evolved. Yet you use him and his past to further aid you in life – you use him so that you can escape him. I'm sorry, brother, but that is not honorable."

Her finger found the backspace.

 ** _Phineas M. Eisenhardt_**

 ** _Phineas M. Eisen_**

 ** _Phineas M._**

 ** _Phineas M. Lehnsherr_**


	11. 4 - 15d Invasion

**Earth 4**

 **Day 15 of Invasion**

* * *

Cal didn't want to leave his sister dying on that old, crappy hospital bed. He wanted to hold her hand and make her stay alive – he wasn't about to give her a c _hoice –_ he couldn't live without her.

But then his dad just started to walk away and he was forced with a hard decision; no matter if he stayed with Fay or followed Steve, they each had a great chance for death. There were really only two differences, however, and they were both kind of sucky – by following his father, Calvin was taking on that greater risk of death. The only thing that swayed his mind to do so was difference number two; Fay was surrounded by people who loved and cared for her, like in the Quinjet they saw landing as they started to walk away – Tony, Tyler, and Harley were probably where Cal wanted to be right now, holding her hand and helping her smile through the pain. Steve, well, he would have had no one if Cal just let him walk off, so, naturally, he went with. No questions asked.

Because he got it; yes, it was unbelievable that Steve would just walk away. He wasn't the walk away type of guy – Captain America finished his fights. But Steve Rogers, the man behind the mask, had already been losing the war when it threatened to take his daughter away. Compared to most of the others left remaining, the Rogers family had been fairing pretty well throughout the invasion. Which was horrible to think about, especially after the death Sharon Carter, and the fact that it was only one family member, and Clint and Tony and so many other had already lost so many more. Fay was just another hard hit by the world trying to take its fair share of the Rogers family. So, yeah, he understood the overwhelming need to just say 'fuck it' and walk away.

Sharon Rogers. God, that had been a hit to the gut. Fay, yea she was their father's daughter through and through. People said that Cal, too, but he always wished they wouldn't. Not that being like his father was bad, but he could see exactly what they were saying and he felt horrible, because if he and Fay were both like their father, then who was there to represent their mother? What glory did she get from her kids if not to have equal representation? You could argue that Fay had some of her mother's spunk, but then you realized it was Steve's eagerness to stand up to bullies and provide endless hope even within the darkest of moments. At least Cal had her nose.

As they spent the night and part of the morning in an abandoned building, outwaiting the raids of Changers and not speaking to each other, Cal had a lot of time to think. And, the more he thought, the more he began to realize something. And as he realized this thing, the more the puzzle pieces kept clicking together.

He looked up from his spot across the destroyed remains of what used to be a grandeur New York City apartment, at his usually so noble father who was currently sitting like a brick on the couch, muscles strained and back straight as he stared ahead and gripped the armrest so tight that his fingers dug holes into the fabric. He watched him for a moment as he stood in the doorway, swallowing hard and crossing his arms so that they wouldn't shake.

"Dad?" He asked carefully, watching as Steve gave a blank hum in reply. "That thing that's scaring you, tearing a whole through you, it isn't the fact that Fay's dying. Is it?" Such an out there question. Yet, as Steve turned to face his son, his eyes sad and his face grim, Cal knew he had hit the nail right on the head.

"I know she'll be okay." It was unneeded confirmation. Cal didn't know that she would be alright – she looked like she was dying to him. But boy, did Steve sound sure of himself. Cal wasn't sure if he had tricked himself into false hope, or if he was so preoccupied with something else that he was too busy to give her his full attention.

"Something more than Howard's death happened that night between you and Tony, didn't it?"

Howard II. Now there was another death that hit hard. Howard was the oldest of the Avenger's children, a happy surprise for Tony and Pepper during some very hard times. He grew up amongst chaos and ruin but still he grew up, becoming a genius faster than Tony had. The guy had a level head, in and out of the battle field. In essence; Howard Stark II was who anyone should have thought of when hearing the word hero. Cal didn't know him too well on a personal record, but his father had been there the day he died. The day Tony Stark lost his second son and when he came back carrying the body, the next day he was gone; out to help Doctor Strange in Asia. Something happened that night, something more than anybody was letting on.

"You're afraid to talk to Tony," Cal continued, his eyebrows creasing in hard lines that easily showed his confusion. "That's why you took off right away when the Quinjet was landing – you knew exactly who would be on it." Cal was getting scared that his father wasn't answering him. He was also slightly worried that no one else had caught onto this, but the answer was rather simple. No one had any reason to doubt Steve. If Steve Rogers said that Tony was retreating to Asia to help Doctor Strange, and he was bringing his sons along because it was too painful to remain in the same city that his wife and children died in, then so it was. It was so easy to fall into that trap, to believe Steve Rogers, because, after all, why would Captain America lie?

"Dad. Answer me." His voice was a little angry now. Cal didn't like to be angry; he thought anger was a useless emotion. He'd never been angry when the Packers lost a football game, or when Fay called dibs on being Captain America should their father ever pass, or even at the fact that he was named Calvin after the thirtieth president of the United States – the guy had some pretty good policies. To Cal, anger was only good for provoking fights and starting wars; two of the biggest things he stood against. So, no, Cal did not like to be angry. And he wasn't angry very often, but there was always one thing was sure to set him off. Cal hated it when people kept secrets. Secrets were made for surprise parties and gift giving, and that was about it.

Steve's sculptured features brought an edge of power to any room he was in. In fact, power was one of the main words Cal would use to describe him. Not the physical power as Bruce Banner or Thor – though he had that too, being a super soldier and all. But rather powerful eyes, powerful expressions, and most of all: powerful words. Steve Rogers was known for his powerful words. So it was hard to imagine the disappointment Cal felt when his father looked him dead in the eye with his powerful gaze, opened his mouth to defend himself after being accused of being afraid, and said, "I did everything I could for Howard."

Cal sighed, the air exiting from his lips in a low rumble. He wiped his face, uncrossing his arms and grabbing the doorway. "Dad." It was like nothing would grab his attention. "Dad!" Steve's eyes sparkled, like some part of him was waking up.

"Look, I don't know what the hell's going on with you." Cal picked up his father's shield from the ground, loving the way it felt in his hand. "The fact that I have to stand here and tell you to get your head out of wherever it's stuck is kind of ridiculous. I don't like that you're keeping something from me. And Fay wouldn't like it either. But if it's important to you, then you better figure it out and fast because its messing you up and we can't afford to lose our father." He crossed the room, slowly flexing his arms and nodding in approval. "I've never seen you like this, and I don't like it. So whatever the hell you've got going on with Tony –"he extended his arm, gracefully handing his father the righteous symbol, "- go figure it out."

* * *

When Fay woke up Tyler was still there. He was awake, clutching her hand softly in his as she blinked her swollen eyes open. The soft words he had been speaking to Tony ceased when he noticed she was awake, both men turning to look at her with that fake smile that was supposed to tell her everything would be okay – but it wasn't.

"Hey, beautiful," Tyler cooed to her as his thumb softly rubbed across her calloused hand, Tony supporting himself on the foot of her bed as he looked her over and winked.

"What are you still lying around for?" He asked with fake happiness. "We've got a job to do."

Fay was used to the one giving the false hope; filling her own words with light-heartedness and a false sense of security so that other people would feel safe. So that maybe, just maybe, they could fall asleep that night. She wasn't used to being on the other end of those words, or maybe she was – but she'd never been the one who might not pull through. She never needed those words and that false hope more in her entire life than she did at that very moment. So it wasn't with empty heart or trodden spirits when she managed a small, shaking smile, and replied, "Sir, yes sir."

Tony smiled down at her like an angel. Fay had been with Tyler for so long – grew up with him for so many years that Tony was more than _like_ a second father to her. He had been there for her through everything, in his own way, even as he went through his own struggles and inner demons; he was always there to help her battle hers. She had asked him about it one time, why he seemed to like her so much, and was surprised but heartfelt to hear him laugh at her. It was that light, comforting type of laugh that reminded her of warm things and Christmas. _'You're not the one I have to worry about,'_ he told her, _'he better do right by you.'_

It was because of all these years spent together, that Fay was well accustomed to each and every Stark boy's way of hiding things – their ticks, their facial movements – so it bothered her deeply to know that they both stood before her, smiling for her own comfort, when they both held more pain and anger than she had ever seen."You feeling alright?" Tony asked after a brief pause, gently nudging her leg and keeping that stupid smile glued on his face to hide the bitter frustration behind his eyes. Fay didn't want to push, but she did want to help. She was pretty good at staying out of things that were none of her business, but at this point any news had the very high potential of being her business.

"Yea, can we get you anything?" Tyler smoothed down her hair with his free hand, letting out a small sigh as he looked down at her with concern.

Fay struggled with what to do. Did she sit there and drown in their river of sugary-sweetness, or did she risk upsetting two people she loved for something that might not be her right to know? What could have possibly been this bad, anyway?

There was no saliva in her mouth as she licked her dry lips, letting out a hoarse cough that faintly tasted of blood. "You don't have to keep things from me," she croaked, watching both of their faces fall and Tyler dropped his gaze altogether. She held Tony's unwavering gaze, battling his stare with her own. "What happened?"

They shared a silent look. Fay was too out of it to try and decipher what cryptic meaning it had, but she knew they didn't want to tell her. She sighed softly, turning her head as best she could to look at Tyler's profile as he silently communicated with his father. He had a small scrape on his cheek but otherwise he seemed fine. Relief washed over her like a cold shower during a hot summer day. But still, there was no answer, so how fine could he really be? Tyler never held things back from her, not with the same regret in his eyes as he did now.

"Ty," she pleaded, and he turned to her, his dark brown eyes like a storm of wreck and ruin, twisting and morphing into something Fay could never recognize.

Then, Clint poked his head into the room and called out to Tony. "We finally found Cap and Cal, Steve's waiting for you at Building Nine." He nodded to Fay and then ducked out, but she was too busy panicking to notice.

"Finally found them?" She asked, her eyes widening at her breath hit her chest in a ragged burst. "What does that mean? They were missing?" All of the worst scenarios filled her head as Tyler quickly tried to console her.

"Fay, hey, everything's okay. They went out last night –"

"Last night?" she screeched, choking on her air as Tony came to her other side and grabbed her other hand in an act of comfort. "They were gone all night?"

"Kid, relax," Tony instructed calmly, "they're fine, they're back. Did you hear Clint? He wasn't worried at all. Your old man's even waiting to talk to me. They probably just needed to clear their heads for a bit." He managed a chuckle, but his voice sounded different and tight. "I'm sure you gave them quite a scare." Fay looked up at him, needing to see the comfort in his eyes, but they were glued on the door that Clint had come in and disappeared through.

"Alright, you take care of her now," Tony said distractingly to Tyler, already standing up, "I'm going to go see what your old man wants." He stooped one last time to plant a gentle kiss on Fay's cheek, squeezing her hand gently and walking trance-like through the door.

Tyler kept a firm hold on her hand as her breaths steadied and her vision turned normal again. "Hey, dad," he called, and Tony turned back briefly. They shared another silent look, and Fay was teleported back to when she woke up, faintly hearing whispered conversation and seeing the silent language written on their faces.

"It's dangerous out there," Tyler warned, "make sure Steve knows that, too."

Tony nodded, ducking out of the makeshift room without another noise. Tyler turned his attention back to Fay like it never happened, but it was still written across his face. He clasped his other hand around hers, interlocking the three of them like a gentle hug.

"You worry too much," he insisted gently, expecting her to smile but she didn't. Instead, a long, creasing frown wound itself down her face as she studied him, watching him become concerned with her silence.

"What?" He asked, slightly taken aback when her shaking hand lost itself from his grip and struggled on its way to his face. He quickly grabbed it and helped it on its journey, Fay managing a weak but content mouth twitch as her thumb brushed up and down slowly, painfully. Every nerve of her hand – of her body – felt like it was on fire.

"Ty, when are you going to learn not to hide things from me?" She asked, humor dancing within the concern in her eyes, old memories of happier times coming to light in her mind. He sighed and closed his eyes for a count of five, reopening them to see that she hadn't moved or wavered.

"I'm just see-through to you, aren't I?" He asked in a whisper, helping her take her hand away from his face so that he could hold it again. She managed a small, broken chuckle and looked at him with a thousand sunny days.

"Aren't I to you?" Her words were whispered back, Tyler having to lean forward slightly to understand them completely. And then, he was already there, so close, he closed the gap between them and sealed his love for her with a gentle kiss. Twelve days of not seeing her had felt like a year, and it stung in her heart just as much as she kissed him back, her eyes remaining closed as he pulled away and kissed her forehead.

"Harley's dead."

* * *

The walk to Building Nine was a long one. It felt longer to Tony as he tripped over rubble and debris, his mind only focusing on one thing: his hatred for Steve Rogers. The minutes ticked by and the towering building, half crumbled from the events of the invasion, loomed overhead closer and closer. A few minutes later and Tony could make out the vibrant red, white and blue uniform of Captain America, dirtied and torn from hard work and sweat. He stopped ten feet away from the man who used to be his friend.

"A little ironic," he said, "you call me down to talk at the last building on this side of the perimeter. No one around to see or hear what happens – sound familiar?"

Steve looked at him, holding that stupid shield in front of him like it would stop Tony. Like it could. Steve's eyes watched Tony nervously, flickering over his body and narrowing at his lack of armor. Tony growled.

"You're a coward, you know that?" He spat, thick lines from stress and days filled with horror contorted his face into a seemingly permanent scowl, directed entirely at the man standing in front of him, shield and fist raised and ready for anything. "I'm not going to fight you, Rogers. Put the shield down."

"I called you here so we could talk," Steve corrected defensively and Tony rose his chin.

"Then put the shield down and let's talk." His hand gently trailed over the broken brick wall next to them, his head snapping back up to glare at Steve with cold savagery. "And you better talk, Steve – before it's too late."

"Tony," Steve hesitated, his arms lowering his shield like a robot. "I didn't think it was the right time to tell anyone." Tony let out a long, howling, cruel laugh.

"You did think it was the right _time_?" He spat, the wind picking up like his voice, blowing his hair in different directions. Steve nodded his head, stuck in the mind trap that it had been what he really believed. That he wasn't just a coward.

"I did something that a lot of people might not agree with." Tony let out another bark of laughter, but no humor was shown on his face. Steve sighed and finished lowering his arms. "Tony, we need to stick together through this. We can't afford to be at each other's throats."

"Don't give me that bullshit, Rogers." Tony looked back at the direction of the camp, but didn't dare turn his back to the other man. Ready for anything, right? "You know there's absolutely no one back there who would agree with what you did, that's the only reason why you don't tell them." He turned back, his eyes darker than his past and his tired body looking so much older, but at that moment he couldn't have felt younger.

"I went to Asia, that next day. I even brought Tyler and Harley with me. I thought that would be easier for you." Steve looked down at the sound of Tony's icy words, the red on his uniform so much more than blood.

"They know?" He asked quietly, his hand flexing around his shield. Tony scoffed.

"Harley's dead, not that it matters to you. Of course Tyler knows – Howard was his brother you asshole." Steve remained quiet, his mind racing. Tony rolled his eyes and shook his head softly, harshly. "Well, I've been doing some thinking of my own, while we were in Asia. And you know what? The only thing I could conclude was that you're a goddamn coward. You're a fraud and you don't want people to know that."

"I'm sorry about Harley, Tony. I did what I thought I had too –"

"I swear to God if you ever say that to me again," Tony easily cut off Steve's quiet voice, an icy suggestion lying under his vicious bite of words. His jaw was clenched hard, but it was nothing compared to the weight on his shoulders. "You're lying to your _kids_. Steve, this isn't you. And I know this isn't you. The invasion, it's been hard on all of us. But this wasn't just some sip up you made. This wasn't an ' _oopsie_ ' or some simple mistake that you can cover up for the greater good. My _son_ was the greater good. I know you hoped I wouldn't come back from Asia. That I wouldn't tell Tyler or Harley , or even that they would have died too – who knows what the hell goes through your mind at this point."

"Tony, you know I don't wish that."

"Do I? Why is Tyler so different from Howard? Because he's dating your daughter?" They both went quiet, Tony angrily staring at Steve and Steve staring at the broken ground beneath their feet.

"Howard liked Cal, did you know that? Had himself a little crush." Steve looked up at that – right into the hollow pits where Tony's eyes were supposed to be. He shook his head, slowly, shortly.

"No. I didn't know." Tony nodded his head.

"There's a lot of things you didn't know, Steve. Kind of funny, how a life only matters when it's gone."

"I did what I thought was right." Tony yelled at that, throwing a chunk of crumbling brick at the ground to suppress his anger. He looked up in calm rage, and Steve understood what was about to happen. He swallowed thickly.

"If you were in that same situation again, would you still do it?" Steve stared at the edge of his shield, the metal unbent and unbroken but the paint chipped and worn so far away that it barely resembled anything anymore, much less hope. He looked up to Tony's eyes – hopeless – and nodded his head.

"Yes."

Armor wound around Tony's body like a hug as he threw himself at Steve with fury and fire. Steve rose his shield but Tony flung it out of his grasp before he could attack or defend, watching as it fell to the ground with a resonating clang. Then Captain America was on the ground and Iron Man was above him, repulsor raised at his head and mask open.

"Wrong answer." The mask closed and the repulsor fired up, Steve's eyes widening with a sad realization as he tried desperately to spare his life.

"I thought of Howard, when it was Fay on the ground." _Pow!_ The blast was redirected so that it hit right next to his head, cement and jagged pieces of city cut his face and uniform as he looked up at his fate and stared it in its glowing eyes.

"I think of Howard every second of every day – you only have the guts to remember him when it's your own child there? And you chose to save her?" Tony was going to kill him right then and there. But his words were true; he saw Howard always. Standing just above Steve, looking down at him with calm disgust, turning his gaze to Tony behind the mask and shaking his head. _'He's not worth it.'_ Tony wanted to shake his head. He wanted to cry and scream because it was a damn good vision and he was seeing Howard like he was still alive. The wind blew his hair into his eyes, his hands resting gently in the pockets of his jeans as he just stood there and looked like himself. Like he was real. _'You're worth it,'_ Tony thought, a stray tear winding down his cheek in a sad attempt of sadness. But Howard still shook his head and let out a breathy laugh. _'If you want to do something for me, make him tell the truth. Fay will be family soon enough, she deserves to know.'_

"She's my daughter," Steve's voice drove Tony's attention away from his dead son and when he looked back up, Howard was gone. Tony's breaths came in labored pants, his chest heaving underneath the cold metal, almost, but not quite, as cold as his heart. His forehead sweat.

"Howard was my son!" He shouted it, screaming it right into the face of his enemy. Steve's twisted perspective disgusted Tony. Fay was a great kid, but Howard was better. Just like every parent cherished their own child above all else; is that really how Steve justified it?

"Howard –"

Tony's metal hand came down and punched him square in the jaw, easily splitting the skin in his lip and chin. His nose appeared to become dented, his head smacking back into the pavement. "You don't have the right to say his name."

Steve continued to lie there, not fighting back because a little piece of himself begged for death. He was afraid. Of Tony, of the Changers…of admitting the truth. His eyes watered as his mouth opened, shaking in silent cries. "What do you want me to do?"

The mask of Tony's suit slowly disappeared, morphing away like pure fluid. His cold brown eyes looked into Steve's vibrant blue ones, his mouth twitching in an animalistic snarl. His voice sent shivers down Steve's spine, shaking him to the core.

"I want you to tell _everyone_ why you killed my son."

It was out in the open. There was no more denying it anymore. Tony wouldn't flee to another country to give Steve the opportunity to try and suck it up and come to terms with what he had done. Tony was being gracious with his words, anyway. Killed was such a nice way of putting it. What Steve did was worse, much, much worse. Murdered or _slaughtered_ would have suited it better, but even that didn't capture the true essence of what had occurred thirteen days ago.

Tony got up, leaving Steve to lie on the ground as his suit melted away and he adjusted the shirt under his jacket, spitting next to Steve's body. "You have twelve hours."


	12. Part Two: 312 - Pre

**Part Two: What Family**

 **Earth 312**

 **Pre-Invasion**

* * *

Carly was surrounded by darkness. It wasn't that pitch black darkness that encased you like a suffocating suit; no this was the open, lonely darkness that was all around you but still felt so far away. The kind of darkness that left you waiting awake at night, seeing shadows on the walls and monsters at the windows. Carly could see – in the sense that the faint outlines of her limbs, waving frantically to hold onto anything, were visible. Her screams as she fell, tumbling over herself in the strange, damp air, were also _very_ audible.

She reached out as she summersaulted over herself, twisting and turning and flipping backwards and forwards. Tears streamed down her exasperated face as she screamed until she was hoarse, at first not forming words and then calling out for Tony, Pepper, MJ, _anyone._ She screamed so loud that her throat hurt and her voice came out like a whisper – she screamed so loud that her voice echoed in her ears until it was the only thing she could fully comprehend – the only thing she could ever come to know.

It wasn't like she was actually falling _in_ the darkness, but rather _through_ it. It was like falling through a tunnel; Carly watched helplessly, hopelessly as the darkness surrounded her on all sides, but never actually touched her. It cast its shadow on her and obscured her vision but did not swaddle her, did not capture her. Her flailing limbs didn't reach the darkness, either. It was as if it were waiting just out of her reach, never to be touched but always to be seen.

She didn't pay enough attention to it. She didn't have the time, or maybe she did, but she was too scared. She couldn't stop twisting and turning long enough to calm down and orientate herself or try to think straight. All she knew was that she was falling and sometime, eventually, there had to be a bottom.

Time was impossible to keep track of, not that she tried. Afterwards, after hearing that she only fell for a couple of minutes, she would claim that it felt like hours or days. It was the strangest sense of falling too; it felt real and the wind even blew her hair up and her clothes filled with it like balloons. There was nothing visible pulling her down, either. Maybe gravity? Or maybe something entirely different, something she wouldn't ever understand.

It was a real phenomenon, to be stuck in a position like that, feeling like you were falling forever but not being able to get over that hump in your mind that lets you think. That one thing playing over and over in your head as you're about to die. For Carly, that one thing was her dad, Tony Stark, and how sorry she was for him to have a daughter as terrible as her.

And then the portal opened below her and she was out, back in Peter's apartment with fear and confusion written on her face and the faintest recognition that someone had been calling her name. Someone in the darkness.

* * *

Mack broke the door down with his boot. Maybe it was because he was drunk or maybe it was because he didn't care about being nice, he barreled into the apartment like a freight train - and when the only person he saw standing there was some little brown-headed freak, he swung that shotgun-axe hybrid like his life depended on it. No questions asked he swung again after the near miss, the broken glass and water spreading across the floor making it almost impossible to keep his footing.

The man let out a small squeak as he slid across the floor, slipping and landing into the side of the refrigerator. Mack swung again but the little bastard ducked and the axe lodged itself into the wall above his head. Mack grunted and left it there, tackling him as he tried to crawl away.

"Little weasel," Mack grunted, his vision slightly off kilter as they rocked back and forth on the ground like amateurs.

The man underneath him squirmed and looked altogether frightened as he gasped for breath with wide eyes and scrambled to get away. "Okay, okay!" He kept yelling, like Mack would stop to listen. Mack pinned him to the ground like a slippery fish, his strong muscled arms coming to restrain the stranger below him as he cowered as his tears mixed with the glass shards and water under his skin.

"Where's Winter?" Mack demanded, and the kid gave a shaking shrug.

"I don't know – I only have Carly – I swear!" His response was a shocker, if anything. Mack's head spun, and not from the alcohol this time. Tony had entrusted Mack to be her backup bodyguard, should Peter fail to be around. That was why he had installed the perimeter alarms in the apartment and only told Mack about it.

"I can bring her back!" The sudden noise below Mack startled him as he gazed down with wide eyes. "You just have to let me go, man." Mack's grip tightened and his prisoner groaned in pain. "Come on man," he pleaded, and Mack was a little unnerved how desperate his words were. Like a kid begging for that toy they just _needed._

Mack found himself letting go, slowly, hesitantly, and hoisting the boy up by his shirt. He left the kid to stand there, shaking and terrified, as he walked slowly over to the wall and freed his gun with pure strength, throwing it up on his shoulder and watching with narrowed eyes.

"Man I don't know what the shit you're talking about," Mack shook his head, letting out a slow breath. "But damn do you look scared. So, we'll make a deal." He lowered the shotgun until it was pointed right at his chest. "You bring Carly back or I'll blow a goddamn hole through you."

He gulped. His eyes were wide with fear as he stared down the barrel of the gun, his hands shaking as they slowly rose. Mack watched carefully, his finger coming to rest firmly on the trigger. He watched as those hands rose further, further, until, finally, they were out in front of the boy's chest and shook with enough might to move a mountain.

And then green. A green deeper, more vibrant than Mack had ever seen. And it was coming from behind him. He spun around – just in time, as Carly came screaming into view and fell onto the floor. Mack raced over to her, kneeling by her side as the portal disappeared and he turned her over. As he looked up, the boy was gone.

Now there was a decision: go look for the mysterious kidnapper or check in on Carly? Mack chose Carly, fearing that if he didn't he'd have to deal with the wrath of Tony Stark. Man, that guy did some crazy things to keep his daughter safe.

"Carly. Carly, hey," Mack spoke gently, laying his gun down so that he could grab her with both hands and help her up. Her whole entire body was shaking, her sobs wracking her body in a one-two beat. Her hair was wind-blown and all over the place, her skin red and blotchy from crying. As they made eye-contact and Carly began to cry with the joy of suddenly realizing she wasn't falling, Mack could see the fear in her eyes and how deep inside of her it really stretched.

"Carly, you okay?" Obviously not. A stupid thing to ask, but it was funny how it was the first thing that came to his mind. She steadied herself with the help of the kitchen counter, her bare feet crunching on the glass as she shifted her weight and nodded her head vacantly.

"It's okay," Mack tried to comfort her, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. "I'll call your dad and he'll be home by the morning. You can stay at my place for the night."

Carly took a minute to respond, but eventually she shook her head. Her eyes pressed closed and she forced uneven breaths through her nose and she struggled to calm her racing heart.

"No," she whispered, her voice scratchy and broken, "I don't want to interrupt his visit to Wakanda. I've already caused enough problems—"

"Carly, I don't really think you getting abducted can be considered you causing another problem." Mack stepped to her side at the counter and tried to look her in the eyes. "Trust me, Tony would want to come home." She finally turned her head to meet his gaze with fire and fury.

"You don't get it," she spat at him, her nails scraping against the countertop forcefully, but she didn't flinch. "I trapped them over there. They're over there because of _me. I_ did this. I-I-I—" She began to cry again and Mack scooped her up into a comforting hug. She clung to his alcohol scented shirt like her life depended on it, and Mack wondered just what had happened to her on the other side of that wall of green.

He rubbed her back gently, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that this small girl in his arms, crying like a babe, was responsible for sentencing five people to possible death. Sure, it hadn't been her idea, but she was the one at the controls, egging them on…

"We all make mistakes," he found himself saying, nodding along with his words as he spoke. "That's why we're a team – so that when we make those mistakes, we can fix them. Together." Carly stopped crying shortly after he started to speak, and listened intently to his words. "So let me call Tony, and he'll help us figure out what to do."

Carly pulled away from his embrace, her face set and oddly calm given what she had just been through. Again, despite his brief speech, she shook her head. Her mind was made, and Mack could see that there was absolutely no changing it.

"What he's doing in Wakanda is more important than whatever's going on here." She made eye contact with him again, her gaze powerful and fierce. If Mack were any other man, he would have been scared. "We _need_ to get them back. We…he needs to find a way to build another portal. And that requires Vibranium, so he needs to be in Wakanda. And he needs to _stay_ there." She pushed off from the counter, walking across the glass-ridden floor with ease and coming back with her phone. "I'll call Dad because I can get him to stay – I already know where the safe house is. You call Peter and let him know that he and the fam can't come home tonight."

Was Mack about to take orders from Carly Stark? You sure as hell bet.

* * *

She called him from the safe house. The phone rang twice before Tony picked up, his voice distracted and his attention obviously elsewhere.

"What's up?" He asked, his voice quickly fading. She heard him mutter more words and it became apparent to her that he was talking to someone else. He was probably doing something very important. Carly nodded to herself – securing in her mind that he needed to stay in Wakanda. _He's got important work to do. He's a genius, I can't be distracting him._

"I'm at the safe-house," Carly said like it wasn't important, rubbing her face and holding the phone away so she could let out a shaky breath. She heard Tony's mutterings quickly stop and then his voice was crisp and clean on the other line.

"What? What happened? I'll be right there." She could hear his heavy footfalls as he began to run, and she could picture him waving people out of his way as he did anything to accomplish his goal. She was quick to dissuade his panic.

"No, Dad, just stay in Wakanda. Everything's fine here." Tony scoffed on the other line but she could hear his fast pace slowing.

"Everything's fine?" He quoted her, disbelief clear in his words. "You're in the safe house Carly, for God's sake…" He trailed off but Carly could invasion him running a hand down his face as he shook his head, his eyes filled with so many emotions that he just looked busy – too busy for her. But still, he cared enough to start running just at her announcement.

"Its fine, Dad, really." Carly sighed as she hung onto the curtain, slowly drawing it closed over the window as she prepared her story. "Just one of your rabid fans, is all." She forced a breath of laughter, almost hearing the confusion through the other line. The lie came easily to her, and she couldn't decide if she was proud or ashamed. "He saw you through the window, somehow, I don't know. I guess he didn't see you leave so he snuck in at night for an autograph. Scared the living shit out of me." She was bored, cool. At least that was how it sounded—like she was mad at Tony for being famous.

"Everyone's okay?" His words came after a pause, probably him trying to decide if she was being truthful. Carly nodded her head as she sat on the couch and pulled her legs into herself. Her eyes began to glaze as she let out more words in her annoyed tone.

"Yea. I was home alone with Winter because Peter was out with MJ and the kids. As soon as she heard noise she hid in the closet like Sasha taught her too. Mack was there pretty quick though. I gotta say – setting up perimeter borders and not telling anyone? Asshole move." That's what she would have believed. Any other day. With all of her heart she would have hated her father for installing another stupid thing that just closed her off from the world even more. One more stupid excuse from Tony like _'I'm doing it to keep you safe,'_ or ' _Trust me Carly, just trust me.'_ She would have rolled her eyes and screamed at him, begged him to let her be normal or to just quit it with all the extra shit. But not after tonight.

For the first time in her entire life, Carly saw through her father's perspective. The horrifying encounter she had just been through…the only thing that had spared her of her life had been Tony's decision to install those perimeter alerts. Without them Mack never would have come, and Carly might still be stuck in the darkness. It made her shudder, and want to cry. Out of fear, mostly, but also because of that giant light that had just exploded inside of her, and now suddenly she saw all those years with Tony as a blessing more than a curse. He really _had_ just been trying to keep her safe. And, wrong or right, maybe it had worked. Maybe he had ruined her life – but maybe, just maybe, he had saved it, too.

"I'm not saying sorry for that," his voice was defensive on the other line and Carly quickly felt the urge to cry spring onto her once more. She quickly wiped her nose and tried not to sniff as she made herself stay in character.

"Yea, well Mack told me to go to the safe-house anyway, so here I am. Peter is staying with the others at a different location until further notice." She held the phone away again as she let out a long, shaky breath, bringing it back to her ear just as Tony started to speak.

"That's great. Look, I don't have to be here for construction, I can head home in a few hours. Morning at most." Carly knew he was being serious, she was just as sure of that as she was sure of hearing the stress and tiredness in his voice. She hit her leg with her fist as she forced herself to roll her eyes.

"Just stay there, wouldn't you?" She snapped, never feeling worse in her life about having attitude to her father. She was scared, the type of scared that made her feel like a little kid. And little kids stop being scared with their parents around, especially if one of said parents is Iron Man. It killed her inside to hear him try, to say that he'd come home for her, and for her to have to sit there and tell him off for it. She couldn't remember the last time Tony had offered to come home early, to postpone work, for anybody, let alone her.

Tony was surprised. "No really, I can be there by the morning. I promise." She knew those words had just spread fuel to her fiery façade.

"I'm not a little kid!" She retorted, shouting into the phone like a maniac. "God, just lay off for once! I told you I'm fine, I don't need my dad around watching my every move. You've ruined enough of my life; can't you just take your weird ass fans and stay away for once?" The other line was silent. _Maybe I took it too far._ Carly didn't know what to think anymore. Her life had gone from lonely party-girl to messed-up abductee overnight. She had cried her soul out and yelled more than the average insane person would in their entire life, and, quite frankly, she was worn out.

"Shay, the Rogers… they need you to fix my mistake. So just… just call me when you're done." She didn't want to think about whether or not her words hurt Tony. She knew they did. His lack of response was enough to explain it all. So, as she hung up on him and threw the phone across the room, the tears began to fall again, but this time they stung with fear and regret.

* * *

"You what?" The low voice cut through the air like a knife. The words traveled as if they were meant to maim and scar, lashing out like a whip, stinging his back as he knelt in front of the man with bowed head.

They were in a different room now, one of grandeur and elegance. Ornate drapes cascaded around them like jaded silk. Expensive tapestries of suffering people and broken cityscapes looked down at him as he surrendered to subordination. And in the middle of it all sat a great throne, forged from pure gold and placed atop two stairs of sculptured jade. The great chair towered above him, its golden features shining brightly in the abundance of light. The back of the chair extended upward until it broke off into two long serpents, their heads bowing down in a horrible fashion of snarling and fangs. The arms ended in howling souls, the outline of people suffering; their mouths hung open in eternal agony. _Mortals,_ his capturer had once called them.

"I let the girl back out." Roman's voice paled in power to man perched on the throne, his sentence falling limp almost as soon as he spoke it. He dared not look up, or any other direction than downward as he tried his best not to shake and shiver. Despite the warmness spreading from the terrible room, the man in in front of him exuded a coldness that chilled Roman to his core.

The man leaned forward, his bony fingers wrapping around the armrests as he slowly licked his lips and closed his eyes out of annoyance. One by one the seconds passed and Roman could feel the man's gaze boring into him. "And why, if I might ask, would you ever do something so blatantly against what I've ordered?"

Roman's knees hurt. His back ached from being bowed over, but he didn't dare move. A deep panic flickered in the base of his stomach, slowly spiraling through his body until it consumed him and raged into a fire. His breaths threatened to turn shallow as he froze with fear and was unable to form any resemblance of words.

The man stood up, causing Roman's eyes to shut with worry. He could hear the distinct footsteps as he strutted down the gentle incline from his throne. A quiet, drawn out show of power, meant to scare him – and it did. It terrified Roman to his very soul. And then the man was directly in front of him and Roman blinked open his eyes only to stare at a pair of black boots.

"I hate coming down to your kind's level," the man sighed, pure disgust written in the atmosphere as he spoke. "But sometimes, it's necessary." The boots slowly retreated and Roman let out a puff of air, eagerly in taking more before the dramatic continued.

"Roman, Roman, Roman," the chanting of his name was soft, and Roman was reminded of his first few weeks of captivity, when he believed in the gentleness of the man's tone and yearned to hear it. He believed the lies that spewed from his wretched mouth and he took comfort in his disguised hell. There was a quick sound off to his right, a sharp slap that caused Roman to flinch. Then there was a pulling sensation in the back of Roman's head, like a string was tied to the base of his skull and was being tugged.

"Look," the command came with a harsh jerk, the invisible string yanking Roman's head to the right as his eyes came to meet his supposed parents, chained to the wall with blank stares on their grey faces. Molly's cheek had a fresh red mark staring to grow, spreading over her gentle face as she looked onward like a blank canvas. There was absolutely no life in her eyes, no cries for help or silent pleads. They were both still. Like statues. _He_ had done that. He had just wiped them clean and used them like puppets. The man knelt down on one knee, grabbing her face and turning it towards Roman.

"I told you what would happen if you failed me," He studied the woman's face, not looking at Roman as he traced the red mark with his thumb. His tongue clicked disapprovingly as he brought himself to a standing position once more, a small blade growing into his hand through some sort of magic that Roman didn't understand. His heart sank into his stomach, his eyes widening as he cried out.

"No! Please, no! I couldn't bring her back! We were interrupted!" The man froze, blade raised as Roman bargained for the woman's life. His head cocked quizzically, his hand never dropping.

"By whom?"

Roman shook his head, his teary eyes searching the blank faces of the couple frantically as he remained hunched. "I-I don't know. But I had her, I had her," he pleaded, crying out again as the man rose his blade further. "No! No, no. Okay. Okay. There –there was this man who came barging in. He-he had this knife gun thing and-and he tackled me and I had to give her up so I could get out alive." His chest heaved with the weight of the truth, his lungs yearning for more than he could provide.

The man turned to him slightly, angling his body so that shadows played twisted games on his face. "And if I were to take the intruder out of the picture, you wouldn't fail me again?" He asked slowly, a smile twisting its way onto his mouth in the most sickening gesture Roman had ever seen. He continued to shake.

He had only agreed to get Carly Stark in the first place to save lives. Now this man was going to take one either way? Roman had thought he was being smart. Sure, he had been tricked into doing the dirty work, but he was ensured Molly and Jack's safety. But now, he realized, he had fallen right into the trap. Roman had never been playing the game; he _was_ the game.

"Well?" There was an essence of time loss about the air, a threat to Roman's decision making. His mind spun, his whole body felt drained and used up as he looked helplessly at the pictures of tortured people around him. Eventually his head bowed, his eyes closing with pure regret as he grimaced and disappointed himself yet again.

"Yes."

There was no more sound, and as Roman looked up the man was gone and Molly stared blankly at him, a fresh cut tracing from her eye to her chin like a stray tear.

* * *

Carly had fallen asleep on the couch, her body pressed into itself as she shivered from invisible coldness and twitched from fears hidden in her dreams. The fabric pressed lines into her red and puffy face, her eyes spinning like discs under their lids. Her phone lay in the corner, screen cracked and battery slowly dying.

Her mouth hung open, moving ever so slightly with unknown words. Her jaw fractioned itself open and closed, her voice like a barely audible plea for help.

 _The darkness surrounded her. Green tinged her vision but altogether evaded her; a subtle invitation to a game of cat and mouse. It goaded her, laughing at her failure to find it. The wind whipped her hair and stung her face as she screamed, tumbling over and over again in her perpetual fall. The tears that escaped her eyes were sent flying upwards, her breath caught in her throat as the air both forced itself into her lungs and altogether avoided her._

 _But something was there. Something in the darkness. Her eyes, wide with fear, sparkled as she called for it._

 _"Who's there? Who's there?" Like an owl's hoot she repeated herself, her call not frantic but born of utter curiosity. The fall scared her more than the feeling of another presence. The journey downward felt long and evil, but her obscured companion radiated something different. Something lighthearted and kind._

Carly's leg twitched like a dog's as her mouth continued its rant. She turned her head, pressing it further into the cushion as her body moved with her.

"Who's there?" She called out groggily, voice barely audible as sleep consumed her and the feeling of falling became relentless.

 _"Carly."_

Her eyes shot open as she sat up, her heart opening its way to a faster beating, labored breaths catching raggedly in her throat as she coughed and gripped the couch with white knuckles.

* * *

Mack sighed as he sunk into his couch for the second time that night. Though, he supposed it was actually the morning. He no longer had an aching for alcohol, as he was rather ashamed that being intoxicated had fucked him up so bad. In the strange turn of events from the hours prior, Mack was still in disbelief that he hadn't called Tony Stark.

"It was the right thing to do," he mumbled to himself, thinking of Carly and what she had said. "He's needed over there." Still, it troubled him immensely and he sat forward, resting his head heavily in his hands. Had he been a little earlier, could he have prevented Carly ever getting captured? Was that even what it was? Carly had refused to tell him anything about it, leaving him to his own imagination. All he knew was that she was more scared than he had ever seen anyone, and he was lying to Tony Stark. If he ever found out, Mack was a dead man.

And finding Winter in that closet, scared and shaking and covering her ears. Man, Mack was just more and more convinced that Sasha should have never left. It was putting Mack between a rock and a hard place, all these people reaching out to him to do stuff because he was the least busy. Newest member of the team – sure, they trusted him, but he wasn't quite to any real level of importance yet.

A heavy sigh left his lips just as there was a knock at his door. Mack grunted, checking the time as he got up to answer it. _I swear, if Carly's out of that damn safe house_ … she was smart about it. She left right away, wouldn't even tell Mack where it was. He figured that was for the best, Carly used to be a good kid, or so he had heard, but all he ever saw around her was tears and unhappiness. Best to stay as far away from a girl like that as possible. Granted, he did feel a twinge of guilt upon seeing her horrified expression, realizing that she w _as_ just a kid.

 _Just a kid who's up to a nonstop rampage of trouble,_ he thought to himself as he swung the door open, his head turning in confusion.

"What are you doing here?" He asked gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest as the man before him smirked savagely.

"I thought we might have a little chat," he shrugged, motioning past Mack and looking into his apartment. "May I?" Mack sighed, eyeing him warily. But he moved anyway, closing the door softly behind them.

The man traced his fingers across the table, bringing them up to his face to examine them. "Your place could use a good dusting, my friend." Mack leaned against the doorway completely stone-faced. His strong arms threatened to rip out of his shirt as he crossed them over his broad chest, his eyes digging holes into his early morning visitor.

"Man, I don't need your trouble," he gruffed, "so why don't you say what you want and get out." An unsettling smirk crossed his features as he looked at Mack with a dark gaze.

"It's a shame, about Carly, isn't it?" Mack felt the surprise hit him like a freighter, but refused to show how it affected him.

"Nice girl like her really shouldn't have any reason to be in your vocabulary," Mack stated, his posture rising ever so slightly. There was something off in the air, and he could feel it. The man shook his head with a small bout of laughter.

Then his gaze turned sour. "I hear you're the only other person who was there that night." Mack instantly knew what was about to happen. He stood up, casually glancing sideways to the floor under his couch.

"I think you should leave," he said, inching closer to the desired area but never looking away from his soon to be attacker.

"But I only just go here," the man protested, a wicked glint hidden in his eyes and he folded his hands behind his back. "Or wait, is that right?"

A chill wound itself down Mack's body at those words. His head tilted, barely a degree, as he took another step over. "What is that supposed to mean?" He asked, rather as a form of distraction than anything, but suddenly feeling rather curious for the answer.

"Well, you see," he began, the Devil's smile on his face, "In this form I can't actually touch things. So, I don't actually know if you need to dust, though it would appear so. It also means," the man's image faltered, fizzing out like a mirage. Mack's head snapped side to side, his eyes going wide. And then there was this awful pressure through his abdomen and his gaze cast down to see a long blade being shoved through it. He sunk to his knees as the man followed him, bending over to whisper into his ear.

"I had to knock from inside."

Mack felt the blood come rushing up his throat as he coughed, spraying it everywhere. Behind him, the man stood up and rolled his eyes. "Pathetic."

His whole world was going dark, a trail of bloody saliva dripping from his lip as he held the blade with one hand and felt the floor with the other. He had landed just next to the couch, almost exactly where he needed to be. If only he could reach…

"You really put a damper on the night's festivities," the voice rang from above him, but Mack could recognize that he was facing away, his back turned to where Mack struggled on the floor, reaching desperately for his last salvation.

"When I heard that you – of all people!" He broke off into a disbelieving laugh, examining Mack's décor distastefully as he paced around the room. "You were the one thing that came in between me and my victory tonight. I was very disappointed." There was a brief pause, Mack inched his hand further.

"But, I was promised that with you out of the picture, everything could go back to normal. Now, with you gone, I'll have what I've been searching for." There was another bought of laughter. "For over a thousand years! I know; it's hard to imagine something like that as a human. But, believe me, the satisfaction will be rewarding. It might take Carly a couple of tries, maybe, but she'll do it. After all, she's a rather dedicated gal, don't you think?"

Mack was confused. He tried to listen to what he was hearing, but his attention was torn between being able to hear it, and being able to make sure he could repeat the story after he killed the bastard. The world swung around him, and Mack had to divert his attention even further by trying to focus on breathing. _It's just a choice. Choose life. Choose life._

"And then all I had to do was think about how I was going to kill you. Should I wait? No, no, no. I've waited long enough. Should I try to make it look like an accident? Like you killed yourself? The thought did cross my mind. But that required far too many variables. What if you didn't land right? What if, what if, what if." Mack's hand closed around the cool metal and his eyes closed in thankfulness. It was heavier than he remembered.

"I know!" The man barked feverishly behind him. "I'm the evil maniac giving you my monologue. It's a bit pretentious, I'll admit, but spending all these years hiding what I've been after… It feels good to just talk to someone. And you're going to die anyway, so, why not?" Mack gently pulled the gun closer, edging it inch by inch. He could barely see it. He could barely see anything anymore.

"And now that Roman's touched her, now that she's embedded _within_ him, it'll be a matter of hours before I have her location once more. And then in a short while, well, bliss." Mack's mind raced, but it was running on a loop. He was a hamster stuck on its' wheel.

The man turned to face him, sighing softly. He gazed down at his hand, watching as ice grew around it until his hand became incased in an icy blade. "Put that gun away, agent Mackenzie." He knelt behind Mack once more, his free hand grasping the back of his neck as his other hand came to rest in front of his face.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He whispered, twisting his hand gently, the ice glittering faintly in the soft light. Mack's eyes were trained on it, his hand still clasped around the gun from where it lay in his lap, covered in blood from his dripping wound.

"I used to be ashamed of this, can you believe it? I thought my father a monster. Now I see he was just a man of many talents." Mack couldn't close his eyes. It was like they were being held open by some invisible force. He felt hollow inside, like everything that made him the man he was had been ripped out. The last thought that ran through his mind was a simple one. _I should have called Tony._ And then the blade was plunged through the bottom of his jaw, not stopping until it sprouted from the top of his skull.

* * *

Tony had been visiting Shuri on her sickbed when Carly had called him. He had quickly excused himself, conversing quietly with the guards for a quiet place to handle what was sure to be important. Why else would she call?

So they lead him to another palace room, a room for recreation as far as he could tell. That was where he remained for the duration of the call and afterword when his face was red and he didn't want to deal with the rest of the world. He sat on the floor; his back supported by one of the room's oddly shaped chairs. His elbow rested on his bent knee, his hand covering his face as he let out a frustrated sigh.

It was like she didn't want him to try. They had that nice moment – they hugged and everything – and then it was back to this. _Maybe it's because you told your own daughter you couldn't trust her._ The words haunted him – had ever since he let them out of his damn mouth. It was easy to call it a regret. Tony had a lot of those.

But then she had just blown him off, hung up. _Fix my mistake. Bye._ It was disrespectful. It was insane. It shattered him. He wished he could have ignored her and gone home. He knew that was what they needed, just some time to figure it all out.

She was in the safe house. _Because of him_. Tony would never forgive himself, no matter the reason. He doubted she had called Pepper, which was great, just another failure he would have to announce to his wife. _Ex-wife?_ He didn't know anymore. All he knew was that alcohol would make the current situation feel a whole lot better, or maybe just burn a little less.

He was still caught up in trying to piece himself back together when the guards came in. It was the last thing he needed, really. He blew air out of his mouth loudly as they entered, hiding his face further.

"Mister Stark, you presence is required." Tony waved a hand at them, and silence filled the room. A staff struck the ground.

"Mister Stark—"

"Blow off!" Tony groaned, and gasps filled the air. Tension sparked and buzzed through the room like a firework.

"You would be best to watch your language in front of the prince," a loud voice boomed out, and Tony raised his hand away from his face in shock. Standing across the room was T'Challa's young son Santo, a boy barely older than Carly. He stood firm, waving his guards down with a flair of his royally decorated arm, his gaze casting itself on Tony with a mature sadness. Tony strained to see that he was crying.

"Mister Stark, my aunt is dead."


	13. 216 - 8m 30d Post

**Earth 216**

 **Eight Months and Thirty Days After Invasion**

* * *

"Aren't you two _adorable_." Blood continued to rush to Roy's head as he hung upside down, gently swinging his body back and forth. He had been with Tori and Rayne for a couple hours that day; they had been idly spending their time with each other and ignoring pretty much everything else for a while now.

The park was one of Rayne's favorite places. It was usually like a barren wasteland given that people were too scared to come out of their homes, and due to the fact that broken pipes reached out like giant, dangerous fun-time accidents waiting to happen. Roy quite liked it, and apparently carnival acrobats had no problems dodging sharp objects. It was a win-win.

Tori and his supposedly lovely girlfriend (Roy had to take his word for it, she didn't talk much) were currently dancing on top of the monkey bars, spinning each other around and dipping and doo-da-ing. Roy was more than convinced they were just showing off. No one had fancy footsteps like that just because!

"I'm bored," he complained when no one answered him, scrunching his face up when it began to feel weird.

"Put your feet on the ground before you lose brain cells," Rayne demanded in her quiet voice, hugging Tori tighter as they turned.

"I don't take orders from _mice_ ," Roy hissed jokingly, snapping his jaw together a few times before lowering himself to the ground as instructed. Tori rolled his eyes and gave a snort.

"Can't lose something you don't have."

Roy's jaw hung open in mock hurt. It quickly turned into a grin as he saw Rayne smile. "Okay, ouch," he said, "If I wanted to talk to Jamie, I wouldn't've come here with you guys. Now get down here you big, fabulous, muscular guy – you're supposed to be teaching me how to fight."

"I hate when you say weird stuff like that," Tori grumbled, obviously discomforted by Roy's words. Nevertheless he stopped his movements and broke away from Rayne, gently slipping down until his feet rested on the woodchips.

Roy shrugged. "What? Fandral's a hunk, and you look just like him, ergo; you are also a hunk." Tori grimaced. "You're hunky!" Roy insisted, looking to Rayne for support.

"He's hunky, right?" She merely shrugged shyly, slipping between the bars to stand next to him. Roy scoffed and shook his head. "Don't shrug at me! You're dating him for Christ sake. You're dating a hunk! An Asgardian hunk!"

Tori's face was bright red. "Can you please stop?" He shouted, tugging at the collar of his jacket.

Roy smirked. "If it's hot in here, it's because of you." Tori groaned loudly and turned away, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Come on," he gave in, waving his hand for Roy to follow. They walked to a grassy area, Tori still refusing to meet Roy's enthused gaze.

Since Roy couldn't really use magic without draining himself of life (a fun little thing Roy liked to NOT think about), it was decided that he should be taught how to fight. Which sucked, because he had never needed actual combat skills before, and training was, in his own words, "haaaaaard." Yes, he had complained the first day like a child. He was, mostly, over that now, but some might say his attitude still needed a little tweaking.

Tori wasn't supposed to be the one training him. Ideally, Jamie would be the one putting up with his shit and dishing it right back. But since her brother was still busy being a comatose zombie, Roy was left to select someone else to be babysat by. At the moment of choosing he had wanted Clint – wouldn't it have been totally rad to learn to shoot like that, and then when he got back home he could shoot _magic_ arrows? But Clint wasn't in the conference room for some reason, and he hadn't been signed up for a patrol. Roy's next pick was Sasha Ferris – THE VANISHER. But, seeing as most of Sasha's skills included being, well, invisible – Roy figured he had better not.

It would have been cool to be trained by Fandral, or Cap, or even the Winter Soldier, but they were front runners in the grand scheme of it all, so he was denied that option. At that point Roy figured it was less 'who do you want to be trained by so you don't use your magic and die' and more 'who do we have left to stick you with? Not you? Well, I can't. How about you? No? Too bad.' When it came down to it, Roy was just hoping _not_ to be trained by Shay. She was one scary woman. Most of the time, Roy figured Sasha was scared of her, too.

So when Tori stepped forward and openly volunteered to train him in the mystical arts of sword throwing and some kind of Asgardian mumbo jumbo he still didn't understand (maybe he should stop tuning people out when he doesn't care about what they're saying?) it was a real surprise. Low and behold the younger Asgardian merely wanted an excuse to see his girlfriend more, which made training more of a secondary thing. Surprisingly, everything had turned out just fine.

Except one very, very obvious thing: Roy couldn't wield a sword for his life. Tori had spent hours lecturing Roy on safety and Asgardian principles and techniques and arts and a load of bullshit that went in one ear and right out the other. The whole time Roy nodded his head idly, not his best performance, but Tori bought the whole thing seeds and all. Sure, Roy was a smart guy, which was why he focused on more _important_ stuff. Like those magnetic fields above them, supposedly keeping an entire invasion out, and how more than one thing about it tugged at his brain. He spent most of always thinking about it, but he didn't know who to confide in. Sure, a week had passed, but it wasn't like they were all chums. The air was still filled with awkwardness – or so he had been told. Roy had a really bad time telling when things were awkward, especially if it was his fault.

So, because Tori trained under Fandral and Fandral had that epic sword Fiomegander (Roy had dyslexia, another fun thing to deal with when learning about the totally easy Asgardian language), Roy had to also be trained with a sword. A rather heavy one, mind you. No, he wasn't weak. No, he didn't skip arm day. But standing there, both hands clasped round old, stinky metal, his arms began to shake.

"Hold it higher," Tori instructed, standing in front of him in the right pose. He looked like a white knight. He was mister do-good that would save the day. He was like mister oh-so-perfect-look-at-me Grant Rogers who steals girls and flaunts the fact that he's Captain America's son to everybody who will listen, no matter if they care or not or have heard it 10,000 times before, or – OHMYGOD—have grown up with the dumbass kid –

"Uh, Roy?" He blinked. The sword was buried two feet into the ground and Roy's hands where still clasped around the hilt, his arms straining as they pushed it further in. He quickly let go, giving a breathy laugh and dusting himself off.

"Wow, look at that! Good work, everybody. I'd say that's enough for today." His breaths came out ragged as he smiled innocently, trying to tug the sword out but giving up after minimal effort.

"We just started," Tori pointed out, his own sword point digging into the ground as he leaned casually on it. Roy waved him aside and began to walk away but the world was starting to spin again to so he sat down, clutching at his chest as it rose and fell with vigor. _Am I dying?_ He briefly wondered, watching as one very concerned Asgardian came into his view and knelt down by him.

"Are you that out of shape, or did something happen?" Tori asked, looking behind him at Rayne who, probably smartly, stood a few paces back.

"I saved him!" Roy exclaimed, surprising them both as they flinched. Roy's hand came up to rub at his forehead. "Whoo, it's hot in here, mind taking a few steps back?" He asked with another breathily laugh, fading quickly as he sucked in a breath. Tori looked completely lost, confused, and a bit scared. Roy would have laughed – loudly – if he wasn't also scared. What the hell was going on?

"I saved him." He couldn't stop thinking about Grant. Dead Grant. Dead, younger brother of Jamie Rogers, Grant. He was alive now, because of Roy. How much life did Roy use up?

"Yea, Grant's alive. You saved him. He's okay now." Roy shook his head, letting out a harsh wheeze of a laugh. He didn't care if the poor bastard was _alright;_ his mind was still being selfish. He felt bad for it – right?

"No, I _saved_ him." Roy let out a laugh, turning his gaze to look up at the huddled masses above, where the bright sky should have been. "Why would I do that?" He asked with a smile, closing his eyes as it widened and he leaned further back.

"What do you mean why? You saved him. You did the right thing." Tori placed a hand on Roy's shoulder to steady him and keep him from toppling over. His voice was cautious and concerned.

"For who?" Roy's eyes snapped open and he sprung forward, further scaring Tori and Rayne who looked like she was about to turn and flee at any second. "I hate that kid!" The smile never left his face. His mind felt whoozy, like it was filled with a mixture of laughing gas and helium, and he would float away any second, laughing madly until the day he died.

"I hate him," his laughter blurred his words as tears sprung from his eyes, falling casually down his paled face. "Did I do it for Jamie? Did I do it for Carly? The world may never know!"

Tori licked his lips, watching Roy with unease. "Who's Carly?" He wondered. Roy didn't say anything. At the mention of her name his harsh laughter stopped and his breaths became normal again, almost as if he realized what he had said and how crazy he had become. His eyes darkened as he stood up and waved Tori off.

"She's no one." He shook his head. "She's not no one; she's _someone._ It doesn't matter. What does matter is gravity." Rayne came up behind Tori and grabbed his hand, gently squeezing it.

"Is he okay?" She whispered, her dark eyes trained on his movements as he began to walk away. Tori shrugged his shoulders and kissed her hair.

"Roy, are you okay?" He asked, tugging Rayne to catch up with him after he had collected the swords and trailed Roy a few feet behind.

"Never better!" He yelled back, hiding his face in all its unsmiling greatness. It wasn't the first lie he had told here. He wasn't the first person to tell that lie here. He was freaking out – that's what it had been. He had had a freak out. An anxiety attack. A Panic attack.

None of it was right. His wiring must have been off. Roy Strange didn't _have_ anxiety, and he sure as hell didn't _panic._ Okay, so that second part was a tiny lie. Maybe he, possibly – occasionally—had a small panic or two. But he never would outwardly show it. That defeated the whole façade of Roy Strange, almighty Warlock, being the coolest guy around. He clutched at his heart as he continued to walk away, fear gripping it like something that grips stuff really hard. It was a hard grip. He was pretty scared.

"Are you sure?" Tori asked, and Roy took a deep breath, spinning around with a big grin and shooting finger guns.

"Just keeping you on your toes!" He winked, pulling a face and turning once again. "So, tell me about this gravity."

Tori shared a look with Rayne, rubbing his face before shaking his head. "I don't understand. What about it?"

Roy stopped. Sometimes it was easy to forget people weren't as smart as him. Maybe they were just as smart, maybe they just weren't attentive. Maybe they didn't ask enough questions. Questions were good. Fun. Dangerous. Roy liked dangerous.

He jumped up and down a few times, flapping his arms like a bird. "Come on, join me." He continued to do so for quite a while, running around and testing different places and flapping his arms.

"Roy…are you sure you're oaky?" Tori asked as Rayne tried not to smile. He rolled his eyes.

"Stop asking me that and jump!" Reluctantly they gave in, hopping a little in their place hoping to appease him. When Roy was satisfied he stopped jumping and so they did as well, Tori raising a hand to scratch at his tousled hair.

"I keep giving everyone a chance to come to their own conclusions, but they never do. I thought you being an Asgardian meant you were supposed to be better than us puny mortals." Roy complained, folding his arms across his chest and scratching at his shirt. The extra clothes they kept getting really weren't the best fitting…or best looking. Roy would have been offended if he didn't think there were more important problems than fashion – which was saying a lot because if you're going to kick ass, you don't want to be wearing an orange polo three sizes too big. You'd only make that mistake once.

"Well, enlighten us, then." Tori suggested, growing rather irritated. Rayne peeked her head over his shoulder.

"Besides, he's only half Asgardian. He probably picked up on our stupid gene." Roy smirked at her, and Tori rose an eyebrow, his lips pursing.

"You're a really bad influence, you know that?" Roy winked at him. "Now go on, tell us what's wrong with the gravity."

"Yes! There is something wrong with it. I'm proud of you." Roy spun and jumped again, pointing up to the sky to direct their attention. "Those magnetic fields keeping the Stingers out are a lot stronger than the Earth's magnetic fields. You said that one Magneto chick put them up, which is fine and all. But, I mean, how did you handle the gravity problems that occurred? Gravity would be all wonky after a magnetic field that strong is put up. But, it feels totally normal."

Tori laughed, causing Roy to frown. Had he missed something? His brain seemed to be slipping a lot recently. "Gravity was really weird after she put the fields up. But we were ready for it; that was the plan all along. We had already set up gravity simulators across the globe to go on when she put the fields up. That way, nothing went too, er, 'wonky'."

Roy continued to frown as Tori smiled. "That it? It went perfectly as planned? Nothing didn't work or anything like that?"

Tori frowned. "Well…yea. Why?"

"How many simulators did you put up?"

"Hundreds. Why?" Roy couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"And they all worked?" He asked, looking around like he was the stupid one. "Just like that, and nobody asked any questions?"

Tori nodded slowly. "They all worked, the math was careful." Roy let out an aggravated groan.

"But they shouldn't have had the math – don't you get it? How did they know what calculations to use if she hadn't even put the fields up yet?"

He shrugged. "Yea, what's so wrong with a little bit of luck?"

Roy pursed his lips, shaking his head disappointedly. "I don't believe in luck."

* * *

Grant was still unconscious. As the days passed he just lay there, groaning inaudibly and twitching as he slept. Jamie hadn't let go of his hand for hours. This was how she spent her days now, grasping tightly onto him and casting her dull eyes onto his duller flesh, unbelieving that he was alive. He looked like he was dying, not healing. She was constantly reassured by people that she didn't even know the names of, which proved to be less than comforting.

Sasha and Shay visited every day. Their faces were blurred within all the others'. Roy still hadn't stopped in, but Jamie hardly noticed. She hardly noticed anything anymore. She barely ate, she didn't speak, and the clothes she came into this world with had only been changed last night after she realized how disgusting they smelled. She felt bad, for being such a mess. It wasn't her. She scolded herself every second of every day to get up off her lazy ass and help out, but then she would look down at her brother and cave again. She would brush back his hair and kiss his forehead and let the tears fall and sink deeper into her muggy pit of despair.

She didn't notice much anymore, but when James Barnes came walking through that door and sat next to her, she froze. She hadn't talked to him since the truth came out and Grant…went away. Died. Bit the dust.

He let out a gentle sigh, facing Grant as he slept. "He looks…" His voice trailed off and Jamie hummed.

"He looks dead," she finished for him, biting her lip and gripping Grant's hand harder. Bucky's shoulders slumped beside her.

"But he's not," he spoke flatly, his voice calm and gentle. Jamie nodded. A brief silence filled the room. It wasn't awkward or forced and Jamie respected that.

"I've been scared to come visit." Bucky admitted, playing with the edge of the cot idly. "I can't help but feel this is slightly my fault."

"It's not!" Jamie was quick to defend him, turning to him with wide eyes. "I got too caught up in things; I made it awkward for everyone. This is my fault." She smiled lightly when Bucky opened his mouth. "Please, don't defend me. I know I did this. True, Grant shouldn't have been an idiot and wandered off, but… You look just like him."

"Like your father." Jamie nodded, her eyes tracing his face like it was practice, running over his stubble filled jaw and long hair with such weird familiarity that Bucky felt saddened. He cleared his throat. "That's actually, partly, why I came here. I was wondering if we could talk."

"About my father?" Jamie asked, shaking her head. "I don't remember much about him."

His heart fell. He let out a shaky breath, trying not to break the smile on his face. "So I suppose you don't remember much about Cecelia, either?" Jamie's eyes fell.

"Grant has Steve's healing factor, but it doesn't seem to be working." Her thumb grazed over Grant's grey knuckles, her other hand coming up to wipe a tear away from her face. Bucky stood up, hating himself for even asking.

"I'm sorry. Your brother is here, like this, and I have the audacity to ask you about a dead woman who you can't even remember." He gave Jamie's shoulder a light squeeze and turned to walk away.

"They both died when I was six." Bucky immediately sat down. His warm blue eyes comforted her in the most painful of ways. Jamie didn't like to think about her parents, especially her father. She grew up with the world telling her that he was a bad man, but with Steve saying he wasn't. Jamie would have loved to believe anything that came out of Steve's mouth, but people had a habit of arguing with him and seeing things the other way. To be honest, Jamie never knew what kind of man her father was. All she knew was that – "We lived somewhere in Russia. It was cold all the time but we were safe there. Or, he thought we were. I guess the world didn't like his that much. Steve came to visit and I had been locked in the closet. He found Ceceilia with her throat slit in the bathtub and his body in the living room. His head is still missing – some sick bastard must have taken it as a trophy."

Bucky could say nothing. He had been hoping for some cute childhood memories, not this terror of a story. Jamie shrugged her shoulders. "Steve took me in and raised me as my own. I was too young to really remember my parents, but old enough to know that Steve wasn't my dad. Grant and the others hadn't been born yet so he told the Avengers that he and Sharon adopted me. I grew up knowing that the truth was dangerous. That being the daughter of a terrorist made me a terrorist, too, in the sick eyes of the big, bad world. It doesn't matter who my father was or what he did. Kids should be innocent, but I wasn't. I was guilty of some crime I could never come to understand."

"I'm sorry." Bucky's mouth was dry. Jamie was so calm about the whole ordeal, but somehow Bucky knew it wasn't because she was still in shock. No, Jamie was just like this, noble, quiet, real. She offered him a small smile.

"No, I'm sorry. I can't give you what you're looking for." Her gaze panned out, her eyes searching for something neither of them could see. When she spoke again, her voice was soft. "I remember traces of them. Warm smiles, kind eyes. I remember being cold and being okay with it because I had two loving parents. I don't remember terrorism or crazy nights when he would have nightmares. But that's what people told me happened, that's how they convinced me that he wasn't a safe person. And Cecelia was his prisoner."

Bucky's jaw set, hard. "I loved Cecelia with all my heart," he gasped out, feeling tears begin to rise in his eyes. Jamie focused on him with soft blue eyes – exact replicas of his own.

"Then tell me; are you a terrorist?"

* * *

Silence filled the room. Everything was bright, unfortunately. The long windows let in enough light until it stretched to every corner and nothing was left out. Clint just wanted to be left out. Bright things were happy. He was not a happy man.

This was not a happy occasion. _She's dying._ His head hung in perpetual anguish, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought the urge to punch until his hands were broken. He leaned against the wall, pressed his hot forehead against it, forced himself to breathe deeply.

When it had first happened, when she had first gone down, Clint had never left her side. As the invasion got worse, he held her hand tighter. He didn't want to leave her, but he had to. He had to because it was never supposed to be her. She was stronger than he, stronger than Cap and Stark and all the stray Mutants combined. But she had been one of the first to fall.

So he had gone out with a suicide vengeance. Because _maybe,_ just maybe, he could land himself the cot next to hers and they could dream together again, like they used to when everything was simpler. But he just couldn't seem to die.

He felt like he was constantly letting her down. He visited her less, each day staying closer and closer to the doorway so he could turn and just walk away. He hated seeing the disappointment on her face. He didn't hold her hand anymore, scared the she would pull away, didn't kiss her forehead or share his thoughts because; what if she didn't want to hear what came out of his lying mouth?

But he missed her. Missed the feeling of her skin on his. Missed her judging looks and their inside jokes. He missed the way her laugh sounded, the way her hair shone more vibrant than the whole autumn season. He missed holding her hand.

So he gave in. He stood up from his stoop just past the doorway and made it to her cot. He pulled the chair close and sat down, hesitantly reaching for her.

He fell asleep holding Natasha's limp hand.

* * *

 ** _Why the World Sucks: The Truth Through the Eyes of Phineas M. Lehnsherr_**

 ** _Entry 1,472_**

Hey, sis. We don't talk much anymore. The world is a suckier place because of it. I'm sorry I upset you, but that's the way the world works sometimes.

I miss your smiling face.

I miss your kind words.

Just talk to me.

\- Phineas. (I love you)

* * *

Steve had been looking for Bucky for hours. It was beginning to worry him, especially since they were due for a patrol soon and Bucky wasn't in his room sleeping. Steve had checked everywhere that Bucky would have rationally been, but no one had seen him _anywhere._ Disappearing was not an uncommon thing around here, but it usually didn't mean very good things.

It wasn't uncommon for Bucky to have nightmares when he slept. He would often be found sitting in front of a big window, looking out over the expansive broken cityscape. Steve would usually be called to help him reorientate himself, especially given the fact that they really didn't need the threat of the Winter Soldier on top of everything that was going on. Bucky technically wasn't fully stable yet, and they had no idea of what might set him off. He had proven to be a huge help during all of this, but Steve could tell everyone was still a bit weary.

So it was to Steve's surprise when he found Bucky talking to Jamie in the dark room they had decided to store Grant in while he tried to heal. They were just sitting, Jamie holding Grant's hand as Bucky leaned against the bed, his eyes drooping lazily and the ghost of a smile hinting on his lips. Steve was relieved to see him that way. By now everyone knew about the weird situation of Jamie being the Bucky's daughter and not Steve's, but Bucky had felt so awkward about it that he refused to talk to her. He wanted to say sorry, but Steve told him that it wasn't his fault. Bucky thought everything was his fault. It made Steve angry, but then he just felt sad.

"Buck," Steve said calmly as he leaned in the doorway. Bucky looked up from Jamie to meet Steve's gaze and Jamie turned her attention to him as well, slightly catching Steve off-guard. Blue eyes weren't an uncommon thing. Lots of people had them. Bucky had them, Steve had them, Jamie seemed to have them too – the exact same shade and shape as Bucky's, as it happened to be. A small smile erupted onto his face.

"You can still catch a few hours before we go out," he hinted to his friend, watching as Bucky smiled sheepishly and nodded.

"I guess I just got carried away." Steve felt like he had been stabbed. It was the happiest stab wound he would ever receive and he welcomed it with open arms. Bucky didn't get carried away. He hid himself away and barely opened up to Steve. He looked at Jamie, smiling warmly at her and wanting to just crush her in a hug and thank her. He wouldn't ask what they had talked about, that seemed too private.

Instead, he nodded his head to Grant. "And he's?"

She smiled up at him, looking to Bucky and then to her brother, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "He's alive." Steve nodded and comfortableness washed around the room. Jamie returned the nod and smiled down at the unconscious body, nodding to herself in some sort of reassurance.

Bucky stood up to leave. Jamie turned to say goodbye when Grant's chest heaved and his eyes snapped open. They all watched, astonished, as color seemed to ooze into his skin, painting him until he was the young man he used to be. His eyes looked around wildly until they focused on Jamie was hurried to grab onto him, exclaiming as he began to breathe and smile vaguely.

Bucky looked to Steve and they walked over together, coming to stand by the edge of the cot. Grant briefly ran his eyes over Steve, and his gaze stopped when he saw Bucky. The power in his weak eyes was enough to make Bucky turn away. He left the room without another word, which seemed to satisfy Grant who returned his attention to his now crying older sister.

"Hey," his voice was week and screechy, skipping a few notes as he lay his head back into the pillows. Steve watched with interest, a mixture of feelings running through his heart as Jamie scoffed through her tears.

"You idiot," she cried, "I fucking told you not to come."

* * *

Edie was doing worse for wear. Between being furious at her brother for hating their father – who did nothing wrong – and now having random spasm attacks during the night; she pretty much hated life.

 _Why the World Sucks: The Truth Through the Eyes of Eden R. Lehnsherr_

 _Entry 1_

 _Everything hurts and my brother has to be added to the growing list of everybody who has betrayed me._

She didn't talk to him much anymore. She continuously scrolled through his entries as he did his own thing, debating whether or not she should disobey him and read his locked ones. _'I put a lock and password on them to keep you out.'_ It was funny, really, that he would think she wouldn't know his password.

She didn't hate her brother. She was hurt, undeniably so, but she could never hate him. Not when he was the one single person out there who still cared for her. But Edie knew she could never get past his words. Erik Lehnsherr was no murder. He had been a saint. He had sacrificed himself for the good of his people.

Phin had been raised to support his kind. Their father would have been so disappointed. _You can't blame Phin for this, Dad,_ she thought, closing her eyes through the pain to pray to her father. _He can never understand because he isn't one of us. His gene stayed dormant, his mind became closed and he forgot what it means to be Mutant and he learned to be ordinary._ Her eyes opened, casting sideways to where Phineas' laptop lay within her reach.

Maybe she had been unfair. If it really wasn't Phin's fault for – dare she say hatting? – their father, then Edie was the only one left who could make him see the truth. If his mind was clouded, then she would clear it. Erik Lehnsherr was a hero, and Edie would make sure he believed that with every fiber of his body before she died. Which didn't leave her a lot of time. Edie wasn't a stupid girl, she knew enough to tell when her life began slipping away about a week ago. She would have a lot of convincing to do, but first she would need to see when it all began. She reached for the laptop. It took no time at all.

 ** _Why the World Sucks: The Truth Through the Eyes of Phineas M. Lehnsherr_**

 ** _Entry 1_**

So I guess this is a new thing. The world kinda sucks. Like, majorly. But I can't tell anyone about it because no one would believe me.

I'm Magneto's son. You think that's a fun thing to say? I hate being the son of a terrorist. My father strikes fear into people's hearts and calls it necessity. Calls it fair. Just. He's a joke.

I turned 16 today. Still no powers. Dad kept looking at me, with this weird hopefulness in his eyes. Hate to break it to you; I've got a dormant X-gene. As the hours passed on and nothing happened, he got more and more disappointed. I could see it in his face. He's never looked at me like he looks at Edie. They idolize each other.

She's only eight. It's not like she knows any better. I've known about my father for a while now. Probably since I was twelve and we started to realize that my powers weren't coming through. I think that was a fear of my father's for a long time after she was born. What if the great Magneto had two disappointments for a legacy? Normal children were usually gifts from God himself to a Mutant.

Dad would have just thrown us out. I'm a little amazed I'm still here, if I'm being honest. I think he hasn't kicked me out yet because Edie seems to like me a real lot. And I have Mom's eyes. Edie has Dad's eyes. Edie has Dad's everything.

Her powers came through when she was five. It made Dad ecstatic. Never mind me, the worthless son; his precious baby girl could make quarters float. Even before she was born, when Dad found out he was having a daughter, he instantly loved her more.

I don't hate you, Edie. I resent you. But it's not your fault life is like this. I think as you grow up you'll come to find that it's quite unfair. I want to tell you the truth. The stories of what he's done. What he calls justice. But you're only eight, and I don't know what would be more damaging to you – letting you idolize this monster forever or break the news too soon and have him turn on you. I don't ever want to see him look at you like he looks at me. Like I'm worthless.

I'm normal, why can't he just let me go? Why can't Mom still be alive so she can take me away? I'm not scared of him – that would be stupid. I won't let him scare me. I won't ever give him the satisfaction.

You hear that, Dad? I'm not scared of you. And I never will be.

* * *

The walk home had been pretty silent. Tori and Roy had taken Rayne back to the safe house and not much else had been spoken since. Between Roy's little outburst earlier – as it turns out, no one really believed he was fine – and Roy's little anger management freak-out about the gravity, neither boy had a thing to say.

Tori was on his skateboard a good block ahead of Roy, both swords strapped to his back. Everything Tori did seemed effortless. Roy wondered if that came with being part Asgardian, or if the kid just had 'it'.

To be honest, he was still a bit confused about the whole gravity situation. Alarm bells were going off in his head about a lot of other things, too, but Roy figured he had spoken enough for today so he frantically ran around trying to shut them all off. The constant ringing was giving him quite the headache. It make his wish he was part robot so he could just unplug or power down. Ctrl alt delete the past week.

Did he regret coming? Only because he could die at any second. Otherwise, no, not really. Sure, he hadn't quite expected things to fold out the way they did, but he wasn't complaining much. He wished Jamie was in her right mind. He missed her annoying words of wisdom and effortlessly perfect hair. Carly? Well, he tried to just not think about her. He figured she got in quite a lot of trouble with her pops, but he doubted she thought about him on a regular basis. Which really sucked. Roy wasn't even friend zoned. Carly jus straight up didn't like him. Talk about a blow to the ego.

He hadn't been watching where he was walking. He bumped right into Tori's back and pushed him forward on his skateboard. He rolled away a couple of feet as Roy grew alert, watchful for any Stinger that might have snuck through. He saw nothing.

"Tori?" Roy scratched his head. There was a flicker of light off to his right and he raced to catche glimpse of it but it disappeared before he could fully turn his head.

"They're sending another portal," Tori whispered, his face absolutely horrified. There was commotion above them on the other side of the magnetic fields. Roy grinned for a fraction of a second.

"Isn't that good?" Tori spun on him.

"Why do you think we closed it so fast the first time? Why do you think I can't just ask Heimdall to open the Bifrost and send Einherjar?" Roy was dumbfounded.

"Uh, half of that made sense?" He shrugged his shoulders as another flash of light went off in the sky. Tori bristled.

"Those creatures know what it is. They can sense the opening and they fight harder to get through. A portal like that, they swarm at it. If it opens here, it must open somewhere else, right? It's just another doorway to another planet they can invade. Thankfully whoever's on your side is sending it below the fields. The Bifrost would have to go _through_ the fields, right through where they're all waiting. It would be the galaxy's biggest fish barrel. If that happens…" Tori trailed off, and Roy felt his skin pale three shades.

"Right," he squeaked, "portal, bad. That's all you had to say."

Tori wasn't in the mood for jokes. "We have to get Jace. He's the only one who has closed a portal before."

Roy nodded, pushing him forward. "Well, then give me the skateboard! You're the son of Fandral—run!" Tori nodded and took off, Roy barely having the chance to blink.

"Hah, cool," Roy grinned, examining the board before slowly trailing after. Flashes of light erupted all around him – he wanted nothing more than to be ecstatic. This could be the way home. This could be reinforcements. This could be any number of things, but they had to make sure it never happened.

A full-fledged portal opened in front of Roy and he swerved to the side, watching at it closed and reopened a few feet away. The sky was going crazy.

"It's like Chicken Little up in here," Roy snorted, momentarily forgetting that he was alone. He swallowed thickly, letting a slow breath out. There was no way Tori would get Jace and find the portal on time. It needed to be closed, and it needed to be closed now.

"Someone please find my body before those nasty things do," he whispered, closing his fists and chasing after the line of portals opening before him. He eagerly tapped his foot, drawing every ounce of strength he could muster from his body. He often heard of people wanting to die a heroic death, but, if he was being perfectly honest; it didn't feel like being heroic was worth dying for.

Almost as if he knew it was going to be the right one, a new portal opened directly in front of him and he opened his arms with it. With an excruciating yell Roy closed his hands in a snapping motion, watching as it flickered out of existence and Roy's unconscious body fell forward into a puddle of gross apocalypse water.


	14. 312 ---

Carly's eyes refused to close for the rest of the night. Even as the sun rose and light shone through the curtains she stayed slumped on the couch, eyes clouded and skin grey. Flashes of green played behind her face, shocking her heart with each hue it changed. Her hands scraped at her soft flesh, molding and sculpting it into something unrecognizable. The thought of going back terrified her.

But she wanted to.

There was a primal need within her very soul, something acting upon her which she could never explain. She would have called it God's word, if she believed in Him. But she didn't, and it wasn't. If anything, it was something originating from a place far south from God, but not too far from home.

Her head spun so badly that her hands came up to steady it, only to find out that she hadn't been moving at all. A small whimper left her mouth hanging open, her eyes glued, lifeless, to the plaid-patterned couch. Her breaths where physically exhausting, the small rises and falls of her chest supported only through the smallest desire to live.

It became an obsession. _Who was Roman? What happened? Where was I? What happened? Where did he go? What happened? How long was I falling? Who called my name? What happened? Who called my name? Who called my name?_

 _Who called_

 _Who called?_

 _Who Called?_

 _Who called my name?_

 _Who_

 _Who_

 _Someone Called_

 _Someone_

 _My name_

 _Who_

 _Called_

 _My_

 _Name?_

A bird spoke up from outside and she screamed. She couldn't see where it came from. She couldn't see anything. She couldn't see her future or her past or where she was going or had been or ever would be or was right now.

She couldn't see her father. Where was he? She just wanted her father. She wanted to see.

She flung open the curtains so hard she ripped them off the wall. She spent hours there, looking, and seeing, her hand tightly gripping the curtains as her phone in the corner finally ran out of battery.

* * *

In Wakanda, everything was a mess. Everybody was running and screaming and crying. It was so loud, yet so quiet. People talked in hushed tones sometimes, but even then it was something more. There was loss in the air, and Tony had no idea what to do about it.

He didn't mean to be disrespectful. It wasn't the fact that he had only known Shuri for a couple of weeks, or that they had only talked face-to-face twice, and the second time she spent half of it laughing at his "old ways of doing things". He wasn't disrespectful because he didn't know how to handle a loss. He knew that better than anyone. He had lost more people, close people, than he would ever care to admit.

He knew these were challenging times. He knew Shuri was the beloved princess of Wakanda, and that she did a lot, not just for her country, but for the world.

Tony wasn't dumb.

He knew that Shuri could have taught him wonderful things. Tony knew his place in the world; knew his IQ and how smart he was, and knew that Shuri easily had twice his knowledge. It made him wonder, though, was she actually smarter than him, or could he have done the same things - greater things?- if he had been raised in Wakanda as well? It was the old question of nature versus nurture. Where they born with it, or was it learned?

Howard Stark was a genius. So was Tony. But Tony liked to think of himself as smart in a different way. Tony worked hard for what he had, after he realized his mistakes. He became the man he is today through years and years of torture, blood, and hard work. Shuri was born and raised in royalty in the most technologically advanced country on the planet. How smart would they each be, if the roles were reversed? If Tony had been gifted with royalty as a child, if Shuri would have had to work hard to earn her place?

But that's where his fun little pondering always stopped. Because the questions were never true. Tony was born into royalty, in a sense. His father, the late, great Howard Stark, and Tony was the legacy. Born into wealth and destined to do great things. Shuri, struggling and mocked as she leads her country's advancement as a child. You'd have to be stupid to think she didn't work hard. And Tony Stark wasn't stupid.

So that settled it; was there truly no way to test their knowledge against each other? No fair questions to ask or un-interrupted tests to run?

That was when the disrespect set in, as far as Tony could tell. Because, yes, he felt bad. He hated to see people go through loss, no matter who was lost or who lost them. It was unfair, to the people of Wakanda, to T'Challa, and to young prince Santo. But Tony didn't know her.

However, Tony knew Carly, and the Ferris's, and the Roger's, and even aggravating little Roy Strange - who really took after his father in terms of ego. And Tony Stark could not afford to lose the time it would take to mourn a princess. He had a job to do, which was why he simply said he was sorry for Santo's loss, and retired back to Shuri's lab. They had almost finished the blueprints. Shuri had been amazed, the second time they talked, at how anything managed to shatter that amount of Vibranium. She had wanted to run tests. They had set up many things that Tony had yet to wrap his mind around. He had been excited; he was always excited to learn new things and partake in scientific experiments. But there was no more time now, and he had a portal to build.

He was alone, surrounded by amazing feats in technology, and no one was around to talk with him about any of it. Not Shuri, not Bruce - he never let himself think of Bruce - and not even Carly, who would have had no idea what was going on, but who would have stayed anyway.

His plans weren't working out. The countless diagrams he drew, the simulations he tried - nothing was working and it pissed him off. He didn't know how to run the equipment. Any other day, and he would have freaked to have a lab like this all to himself, filled to the brim with technology and science that he had never heard about. It wouldn't have mattered how many times he screwed up, he would have been happy.

But now wasn't the time for happiness. Now was the time to build that damn portal and get those kids back. Now wasn't the time to learn how to use everything, but he had too, or he would never make any progress. The portal would have to wait until Tony Stark grew the patience to learn everything else.

And he wanted to cry.

His hands were shaking. They weren't supposed to do that. Was it because he was old? Angry? Frustrated? Did he not have it like he used to? All of these things were not options. Not allowed, not now, not yet. _Please_ , not yet.

A guard interrupted Tony's work, and he let out a frustrated scream. T'Challa wanted to speak to Tony, privately. Tony kept rubbing his face. His chest burned slightly where his heart was. The ache of where his arc reactor used to be burned into his flesh.

"He can't kick me out," he whispered, "He just can't."

The big doors opened up to another lonely room. Elegant chairs were sat in a U-shape in the middle, connected by T'Challa's throne. The noble king sat upon it in familiarity, but the scene before Tony was less than well-met.

T'Challa looked tired, more tired than Tony had ever seen. It seemed to be a recurring theme these days. T'Challa scratched at the armrest idly, his face deep and depressed. His eyes hung ghostly sunken into their sockets, his friendly presence replaced by something more forlorn. The king was mourning.

"I have a great favor to ask of you," Tony watched closely, wondering what he could possibly give to a man who had ten times more of everything.

"Anything," Tony agreed, a long, tired breath leaving his aching lungs. T'Challa turned his gaze until he looked into Tony's soul.

"With my sister gone, someone needs to head up the science division." Tony nodded absentmindedly.

"Of course, I'll be happy to break the news to the lucky knew guy." He cringed slightly, wishing he hadn't chosen those exact words. T'Challa, however, made no comment on it. He just kept looking at Tony, something in his eyes that the billionaire just couldn't shake.

"There is a lot that needs to be done around here," he continued. Tony nodded again.

"And I am here to help, buddy, really, I am. But I need some time with the equipment. The adjustments that need to be made to the portal - we can't risk it breaking again. I know that you don't really have anyone over there -" Tony took a deep breath. _But we need them back._ It didn't matter if Carly was over there or not. The others were, and he couldn't help but to feel like some way, somehow, that was on him.

"I'll be more than happy to help with any funeral arrangements," Tony gave up and offered his service. If it was Carly instead of Shuri, would he really just let someone have free range of his lab while so much could be done to prepare for her eternal afterlife? He needed to be smart about this. T'Challa was his only chance to fix it. To fix it all. But T'Challa seemed to have other plans.

"Her funeral will not be tonight." There it was again, something in the man's eyes that set Tony off. Something wasn't right.

Tony cleared his throat, tapping his leg. "I don't really think that's healthy, but okay."

"I want you to be the new head of science."

His breath caught in his chest, his eyes widening as he stared wildly. "I'm sorry, did I just hear you correctly? It sounded like you wanted me - a man you hardly know, who is hardly qualified for this position in the first place - to run one of your country's most important economic responsibilities?" Tony frowned as T'Challa smiled. He shook his head.

"Your Majesty, I get greaf. I get that your head's not in the right place right now, and I know you'll regret this decision later. So I'm good, but thanks." Tony nodded his head politely and turned to walk away.

"My country needs you." Tony scoffed, turning around with a roll of his eyes.

"What your country needs right now is a king with his head in the game." Tony left the air silent for a few moments, and when he spoke again his voice was softer. "Shuri was just a child when she took on that responsibility, and look how much she benefited Wakanda. I think we both know another brilliant kid who deserves that same chance."

T'Challa's gaze wavered only then. He grew sadder, if that were possible, as he nodded his head in agreement.

"Yes," he mused, and Tony was glad to hear it. "But my son must focus on becoming King, and Black Panther. He cannot have his attention so divided."

"Are you hearing yourself?" Tony was bewildered. His tone was flat and angry. T'Challa had always been so reaponable, so noble, so kind. His priorities were always in the right place, and Tony had never found reason to doubt his decisions or actions. Even when his father died, when his country was overtaken, when he himself died by Thanos's doings. Throughout it all, he remained a true King.

"This conversation is over," Tony insisted, waving a hand in farewell. "Your son needs you to have faith in him. Let him have at the science division until you're ready to retire and then worry about all that other crap. I'll go tell him myself."

Tony almost made it to the door this time before T'Challa spoke again. There was an eerie silence as he reached for the exit, and then his attention was redirected and his face contorted in confusion.

"I wish to be buried with my sister, Mr. Stark." Tony turned, briefly, hand still stretched around his back for the door.

"Well, I'm sorry, but that's just not going to happen." The great king rubbed at his chin, sighing as he leaned back into his throne.

"You will lead all technological activities, Stark. Santo will become King and Black Panther, and you will both obey my orders because they will be my last as the ruler of this country." He twisted the ring around his finger, his eyes - Tony now realized were filled with desperation like he had never seen before - found his and held there for several seconds. "You will both do this, because I am dying."

* * *

Familiar chains scraped against his bones as he uncomfortably crouched against the wall. The chains might as well have been part of his body by that point; not metal against bone, but bone against bone.

The whole time his eyes never left his parents. But they weren't really his parents, where they? They were just Roman's incentive by now: poor, grey shells of people who had once known happiness and joy. All foreign concepts to Roman, of course, but he felt bad for them nonetheless.

Everything seemed to be a foreign concept to Roman these days. Confusion and anger called his soul home, and his heart had stopped beating for life long ago. His days were spent slowly, his only goal to somehow not make it to the next. But he kept disappointing himself as his eyes blinked open every morning, and he would once more become slave to the man's every unrighteous demand. He looked to Jack and Molly out of fear for their safety, but also out of longing and jealousy. Oh, what he would give to be as blank and grey as they…

The door opened, and Roman let his head lean back and hit the wall. Jack and Molly never made eye contact with him. They never would again, Roman knew, because their souls were gone, along with free-will and any trace of their previous lives. Roman doubted anyone would come looking for them; no one came looking for him. Even if they did, it had been twelve years and he would have given up after one. As far as anyone was concerned - as far as he was concerned - there was no coming back.

"I killed our little pest," the man said, arms folded behind his back as he paced with vigor before the throne. Roman closed his eyes.

"I have to say, this little outburst was surprisingly fun." Roman could hear the sick smile in his words, the twisted meaning and disgusting pride that he had for masacre. "Even so, I can't allow another flaw in the plan, Roman. I do hope you understand."

Roman swallowed. Fear could only last so long around a person so atrocious as that man, but Roman couldn't say he had exactly run out of it. Fear. It controlled him.

A soft hand grabbed at his face, bones prodding and digging into his cheeks as his eyes popped open in surprise, only to be met with those of his nightmare. Perhaps that was what scared Roman the most about this man; he never seemed to age. Over a decade, and his face never faltered, never turned old or grew a single imperfection. As Roman's skins filled with scars and regrets, the man's remained perfect in every way.

"I have been trying. For. So. Long, Roman." The man's eyes closed for a split second, and when they opened again they were filled with rage. "I have killed," a break for laughter, "so many people to get us both here, right now." A finger traced down his cheek.

"So don't ruin it for me!" His anger had always been childlike. He exuded such raw power and dominance that it was impressive, but his tantrums always ruined the show. It made it impossible for Roman to understand, but he had stopped trying to understand long ago.

 _God, why? Why is this happening?_ He would plead, looking up into the moon with his wide, innocent eyes. Back when he had innocence. _Mommy says you want us to be good. That you punish those who did bad. What did I do that was so bad?_ Looking back, it took his a lot longer than preferable to realize that God wasn't real.

"I'm almost done with you, boy. I'm so close to my end goal. To salvation, and to divine superiority. When I am done, millions across _all_ the worlds will flock to me in eternal gratitude. I will rule them the way they were meant to be ruled, they will all look up into the sky in praise of me." Then the man let out a sigh, clicking his tongue slowly as he stretched his neck. "We could have been done already, Roman. If only you had the girl. You still fail to understand your place in the universe, which is why I can forgive your utter betrayal - just this once." He stood up, walking away from Roman where he lay connected to the wall, his heart racing and his mind blank.

"You know where the girl is." The statement shocked him. He knew that the man could read minds, control them even, but this was such a blatantly stated fact that it seemed like something so much more. Because, yes, Roman knew exactly where Carly Stark was and it freaked him out. He didn't have an address, or even knew what it looked like, but there was this alien instinct pulling at his body, leading him to her. And more than that: he wanted to see her again.

"You will take me to her, Roman, so that I can ensure you not fail me again." Roman very much did not want this man to go with him. His shook his head very slightly, the fear gripping his body and turning his limbs to stone.

"No," he whispered, and the man before him gave out a roaring laugh.

"No?" He barked, a smile twisting its' way onto his face like a snake. "My dear, poor boy; you are in no position to be making demands!"

Roman managed to clear his throat. "Please," he begged, his eyes stinging, "I just have this feeling. I can do it this time. I can bring her back."

There was silence. With the man's back turned to Roman, he couldn't tell what was going on. And then there was a cutting sound, and the man's arm was raised with a blade in his hand and Jack was bleeding on the floor, his chest cut open in a long, thin line. Roman gasped, struggling against his chains in shock, reaching out to help the dying man before him.

The man put his arm down. "If you're not back by the time this man dies - _with the girl_ \- I will behead his wife."

* * *

Tony was back in Shuri's lab. His hands shifted through countless blueprints on the screen, his eyes scanning feverishly. Tony was a very needy man. He needed time, he needed to be smart, to be respected, to be a better father. He needed Pepper, and Rhodey, and Bruce, and even Steve. His list of needs never really ran out. And sure, things took their priorities on that list of needs, more often than not at the expense of his happiness, but he was always glad to do it because he felt like it was necessary. That's what it always came down to.

Was this necessary?

There were currently a few things that were _very necessary:_ finding those damn blueprints, getting home safely to Carly, bringing everyone back. And then there was that whole conversation with T'Challa, and Tony's _necessary_ response. He had told the king he would think about it, and then he practically flung himself back into all the other work he had yet to complete.

Tony was a changed man. Then again, Tony never really stopped changing, because Tony never really found his true self. First he was Howard Stark's genius son, then he was a weapon-making billionaire, self-turned hero, Iron Man - he spent a lot of time as that one, but like all things, it soon came to its' end. But then he just couldn't seem to put it down. People had come to need Tony, come to see his suit in the sky and be reminded of safety. Safety. That had been Tony's goal since the cave. Since he had witnessed firsthand the kind of destruction he had brought against countless innocent lives.

So he had shut down his weapon programs, but then his boss tried to kill him. But then someone wanted his suits and built an army. But then there was an alien invasion. But then there was a terrorist created by his own past demons. But then he created a murder robot when his purest intentions told him it would help. But then there was an assassin who split everyone apart, who brought old pains and caused new ones. But then there was a scared teenage boy he had recruited, who was in trouble way over his head. But then, but then, but then, but then; _but then there was Thanos_.

And Tony thought it would stop there. That was it. He had a family now, and he needed to be there for them. A family man - maybe that was who Tony really was. He had tried _so hard,_ but he was an even bigger disappointment as a father than he was as a son. He did the job worse than Howard Stark, who wasn't even a terrible guy. But maybe Tony was.

Then it got worse than Thanos, because Tony became obsessed with Scarlet's safety, so he hid them all away and sold his house and bought a new one in the middle of nowhere. Pepper grew tired of dealing with his shit and left; not an official divorce, but close enough to it. And Carly...who was she? Tony had ruined her, just like Tony had ruined everything else. It was clear then, and it remained clear now; every time Tony tried to help, he created something so ugly that other people had to come clean up his mess.

And now he was in a dead princess's lab surrounded by equipment he didn't understand how to use, contemplating if he had the audacity to accept T'Challa's offer.

His hand swiped past more words in isiXhosa that he didn't understand, his eyes drooping as he slammed his hand into the table and the screen powered off.

"Dammit!" He barked, practically falling to his knees on the ground. He wiped at his face, groaning into his hand as he rested his back against a desk. He wasn't ready to admit defeat. He couldn't, not here, but he had no idea where to begin.

The quiet sounds of mourning once again filled his ears as he stared blankly at the wall. He didn't even realize before the none of the lights where turned on, or that the original, paper blueprints that he had brought laid sprawled out on the floor under the desk. Tony nodded, reaching for them and bringing himself back up.

"The old fashioned way, then," he mumbled, clearing the table with a sweep of his arm and replacing its' new emptiness with the plans. He had a brief, permitted moment of weakness. It wouldn't happen again.

His fingers tapped against his chin as he crossed his arms, gazing over the lines and scribbles. There was something new in the top corner of the sheet, something he just couldn't make out. He squinted, returning moments later with bright lights guiding his footsteps. When he looked again, he smiled.

"Huh. Son of a bitch." In small, scrawled, English handwriting, Shuri had given Tony new hope.

" _Still can't figure it out? Push your hand into the middle of the drawing table."_

Tony turned immediately, walking over to the tall table at the other side of the room, stopping just short of it as his hand hovered over the middle. He watched for a moment, hesitating, but then shrugged and pressed his hand down.

The monitors spat out the dead princess. Except she wasn't dead, and she was a pre-recorded message. Nonetheless, she was still annoying as hell. It made him smile.

"Hah, I knew you'd still need me!" She laughed at him like he was an old friend, and looked at him like she was alive. She sat at the edge of the table, her legs dangling over and swinging back and forth. It was good technology; her eyes followed Tony's movements and the coding in her features was impeccable - but she had stopped talking. She just sat there, looking at Tony like he was the biggest idiot alive.

"What, do you need vocal cue or something?" He asked, and she rolled her eyes.

"Well, obviously! Haven't you learned yet that our technology is far superior?" Tony let out and annoyed snort.

"Well that's all fine and dandy, but we've got a lot of work to do."

Shuri's head tilted, her dark hair falling over her shoulder in perfect braids. There was a smirk on her face, and life in her eyes like Tony hadn't seen in a long time. "Oh, do _we?"_

Tony nodded, grabbing the blueprints and holding them up to her, tapping the corner. "That's right, princess, we do. Now give me some help so I can get building." He placed them down on the table, watching as she got up to stand next to him, crossing her arms.

"What, because I'm a girl I can't help you build things? That seems a little rude, Mr. Stark."

"No, you can't help build things because you're programming in a computer. Now spill." Tony found himself enjoying the banter. With a lab partner - Shuri, Bruce, Pater - anyone who knew what they were doing, any stressful situation became manageable. Even if the answers weren't clear yet.

"Sure," she smiled at him, her face all too smug for any information Tony might have wanted to hear. "But first, tell me: how does it feel to know that I'm dead, and I'm _still_ smarter than you?"

* * *

Carly was still standing by the window when the perimeter alarm went off. The thing was, she felt him coming. She felt a part of him inside her mind, her body, her very soul - as if they were combined in the most intimate way imaginable. It wasn't like a map, per say, but it was so much more than just a gut feeling. The closer he got, the more she wanted to see him.

She wasn't scared of _him_. She wasn't exactly calm, but she felt safe in the most uncanny way. Something about the way he _felt_ was indescribably invigorating. She didn't fear his arrival - no, she was anxious for it. Some way, somehow, she anticipated it with her very soul. And that was what scared her.

Because he brought the darkness and the falling and the screaming and the chaos. He pushed her into her worst nightmare, and something inside of her couldn't wait for it to happen again. She didn't want to fall forever - was it forever?- she didn't want to figure that out, either. But the voice.

Oh, the voice.

Was it still about the voice?

Or was it something so much more than that?

She gulped; but she did not consciously entertain the idea of running away. She wouldn't be a coward, not this time. She wanted answers. She wanted this foreign feeling to go away. She wanted a face to that voice.

So when he took his first step onto the property and the alarms started to blare, Carly was right there to turn them off. Of course, as soon as the alarms went off a call would be sent to her father, so she pushed the speaker button and left him a message.

"I was just experimenting with stuff, no worries. Everything's cool here, see you whenever. No hurry."

* * *

"So this one goes up here?" Shuri nodded next to him, and Tony flashed her a thumbs-up. "Look at that, I'm getting the hang of it."

"You would not have to 'get the hang of it' if you did not break it in the first place," she commented, and Tony sat up from under all the wires, holding an exposed one in his hand.

"Hey now, I didn't do anything. I think you were starting to go a little crazy in your old age."

Shuri's amused gasp made Tony smile. "Just shut up and fix it," she commanded, leaving Tony to solute her and finish the wiring. It wasn't too different from Stark Technologies, in the main principles, but it still took him a bit to figure out.

"What's with the old fashioned tech, anyway?" He asked, grubling as a few sparks went off, "I thought you guys were above this."

"We are, Shuri answered as she crouched down beside him, pointing to the correct wire that he would need. "We train the children on this."

Tony glared at her as she held in her laughter. "Great," he muttered. His phone went off in his pocket, Friday soon after informing him that it was a false alarm due to Carly's usual antics.

"You're not going to answer her?" Shuri questioned, and Tony finished his work, using the desk to pull himself back up.

"Nope," he answered, flipping a few switches and swiping his hand over the tabletop. Like magic it flickered on, a proud feeling erupting in his chest. The lights flickered and dimmed as the doors locked, causing a frown to overcome Tony's strong features. He looked at Shuri as a screen popped up asking for a confirmation code.

"What's this?" He asked, and the screen disappeared.

"Voice of Tony Stark recognized, accessing locked files."

"Locked files?" He questioned, and Shuri's image shifted before resettling. "What is this?" Dozens of files began erupting through the room like a holographic explosion, each labeled a series of numbers that meant nothing to him. They weren't dates, or coordinates, none of them matched up to letters or words. It was a code like Tony had never seen before.

He reached out and touched one, the folder opening to dozens of scrawlings and papers with scratched out things. His eyes scanned it briefly, but nothing made sense. He glanced sideways at Shuri who stood idly by as he did his thing. He selected folder after folder until the room was an utter mess of blue projections and random writings, Tony's head filling with information that just needed the final link.

He stopped to read one page in particular, reading Shuri's familiar handwriting as it scrawled over itself and crossed things out. He turned to see her hologram standing right beside him, looking her own work over as if she wished to add something to it. Her eyes remained sad, her mouth silently working the equations like her mind would find something new this time.

"Shuri," Tony interrupted, "I don't want to ask again."

"My brother is dying." She was sad, showing almost as much computer-emotion as Vision. Tony nodded. Oh, so she had known.

"I had so many more things to do. So many ideas…" Tony watched her, seeing himself in her actions and regrets. Her eyes met his. "There yours now. All of them. I coded them so that no one else would understand, but don't worry, I put in a little cheat-sheet for you so you wouldn't be completely lost." With a little of her humor returning, Tony almost missed what she was getting at.

"You knew T'Challa would ask me to take your place," he guessed, his eyebrows coming together on his face. "Why?"

"Because I asked him to!" Her eyes rolled "I don't need some monkey brain messing up all my hard work!" She looked at Tony expectantly, but he was lost in his emotions.

"I'm processing," he retorted, rubbing his forehead stressfully.

"Well process over here," she snorted, drawing him to another folder with another bunch of numbers below it. "Open it."

Tony did as instructed, opening the file to bring out papers upon papers of the portal, and more. He shook his head, searching through them and spreading them out. What was this?

"When I designed the first one," she explained, "I put in sensors to survey what was beyond the drop point. They would pick up all lifeforms in the general vicinity, along with any threats or otherworldly activity."

Tony shook his head. "This can't be right." He grabbed another folder within the original's contents, opening it up to multiple graphs and wavelength measures. They suggested something very, very off from anything anyone could have guessed at.

"What does it look like?"

"I don't know."

Shuri looked like she wanted to hit him. "Yes you do. Look harder." Tony rubbed at his eyes, turning to her tiredly.

"Why me?" He demanded, throwing his arms up. "Huh? Why in the world would you ask for _my_ help?"

"Because I couldn't figure it out." Her words shocked him into silence. He bellowed out an unbelieving laugh, but the princess didn't shift.

"I thought maybe if I had more time...if I wasn't so sick. I made a lot of excuses, because I don't like to admit when I'm stuck. And I'm stuck, Tony, but I know you can figure it out."

He huffed. "Well if you couldn't figure it out, I sure as hell can't." It was true. She knew the technology, she designed the equipment, the ideas, math, language - it was all in her head. Tony could learn it, maybe, but he'd never be better than her.

"Yes you can. They need you." He laughed, looking around at the holographic mess he had created. He'd maybe opened half a dozen filed.

"Everyone needs me." It was his mouth talking without his brain thinking. It was his sarcastic quips in a serious moment, his heart just trying to make light of a dark situation. He was surrounded by amazing things; things so pure and futuristic that even Wakanda itself seemed old fashioned, and Tony still didn't even understand a fraction of it. In the files in front of him laid talent in its' purest form.

"Yes, Mr. Stark, they do."

Silence filled the room. How anyone still believed that people needed Tony was beyond him. He created the messes that other people cleaned up. He was a self branded hero, made from his own mistakes. And he really never stopped making more, did he? His senses were overstimulated. He felt another panic attack coming on - God, really? He hadn't had one for a decade. His shaking arms tried to collect all the files, to put them back, but they were so spread out now that he had no idea what went where. He ended up just standing there, in the middle of it all, his eyes wide and his mind filled with ideas for the future. Because he had never really said no to T'Challa, and it was a yes in his heart from the first second and would be until the last.

"Well that's all for me." Shuri's voice physically surprised him. He jumped, watching as she made her way back over to the more advanced desk which she had sprung from, and her hand came up to wave him goodbye.

"What, no more programming?" Tony guessed it would happen eventually; no matter how good the coding was, there was always an end to it. He just never would have guessed that it would happen so soon. Not with someone so sharp as her, at least; he could have made programming to last years, maybe even decades.

She gave him a wide smile and a shrug of her shoulders. "It wasn't really on top of my things to do list."

"Of course it wasn't," he smiled to her in return, shaking his head teasingly. Maybe he shouldn't have been so surprised after all.

"Goodbye, Mr. Stark." Shuri pulled herself up until she was sitting on the edge of the table again, her legs swinging happily as she gave him one last smirk.

Tony look a moment to appreciate her. She was so young, so full of life and happiness. To be honest, she was barely an adult. Not a grey hair or wrinkle in sight - nothing but a bright future burned to ash by unfair consequences. Thinking about everything else she had to offer to her country made Tony's head burn and his heart ache. He gave her a small wave. "Yea, yea, thanks kid. See you around."

He had expected her to fade away then, having just said their goodbyes, so he turned back to the work at hand and spread out the filed once more, turning in circles to try and find the best place to start.

Shuri had been watching him, and while she wasn't capable of real emotion, she figured if her counterpart were still alive, she'd be proud.

"Just remember; don't try to continue my work. Make your own."

"What?" Tony turned in a hurry, only partly hearing what she had said. But it was too late, and Shuri really did fade this time, leaving Tony alone with the glowing blue pages and the murmurings of his mind.

 _What does it look like?_

The question bounced around in his head for minutes as he read, trying to make out her scrawled handwriting as she bounced between English (probably for his benefit) and her native language. His heart swelled just thinking about it: how many pages she had to translate just so he could dip his toes in her work. He was growing giddy now, that familiar excitement about the future growing in his chest.

But that's when he opened a new folder and more graphs came spilling out. He wished he never opened it. He wished he could have relished in his childish excitement for just a few more seconds.

 _What does it look like?_ His words came out in a whisper.

"An invasion."

* * *

The next thing Carly heard was the knock at the door. It was hesitant and light, almost inaudible to her ears. She opened it carefully, coming face to face with Roman as he stared at her with his wild green eyes.

"You need to go back."

He reached out to her and she stepped away, leading him into the house. Her pulse quickened, her legs kicking things over as she slowly evaded him. Now that this was actually happening, now that Roman was right in front of here and she was guaranteed to fall again, the fear set in. She needed time, and she only knew one way to get it.

"I know," she said calmly, and Roman stopped. Carly needed to prepare for her fate. Having had multiple opportunities to avoid this very thing, she knew there was no going back now. She also knew that she was crazy for thinking the way she was, but she couldn't help to think that some destiny bullshit she didn't believe in was guiding her course.

"You - what?" Roman's hand fell limp to his sides, but Carly could see that he remained on edge. There was just something about him, something very animalistic. His scarred flesh shifted on his face with every word spoken, his ardent green eyes remained twitchy and shifted around the room in worry. He didn't slouch or walk with a hunch, which left his small clothes hanging several inches from his wrists and ankles. In the dark his hair had looked brown, but the sun allowed Carly to see the hues of ginger within his soft curls.

"I'll go with you," she said, "willingly. All you have to do is answer some questions."

Roman bit his lip. "I don't think he'd like that," he decided, apologies evident in every inch of his being.

Carly rose an eyebrow. "You don't think _he'd_ like that?" She repeated, sliding down the hall more when Roman realized his mistake. "Who's 'he'?"

"No one," Roman panicked, lunging at her and knocking her to the ground. She let out a surprised gasp of air, her head hitting the floor and blurring her vision.

"I'm sorry," Roman was whispering tears sprouting in his eyes. "I'm so sorry. But you have to. You have to go back."

There was green invading Carly's vision again, and she struggled under his surprisingly strong grip as tears stung her own eyes. She wasn't ready, not yet. A whimper left her mouth, and she licked her dry lips.

"And I will," she pleaded, thrashing again as she tried to keep her gaze set on the hole opening up beside her. "But please, not yet. Please." Her final whispered plead seemed to crack his entire spirit, his shoulders sagging sadly and his morals grabbing the best of him. His grib released slightly, but he remained on top of her, pinning her uncomfortably into the floor.

"You have to," he warned sadly, and Carly managed a tiny nod.

"I promise."

He shook his head with a small laugh, but it wasn't rude or sarcastic. Carly felt a wave of pity for the man above her, her mind growing more confused with every second. So he was a reluctant abductor?

"Your words don't mean anything to me." Carly gasped for a breath and his eyes widened, his body straining to pull his weight off of her.

"Sorry," he said, holding out his hand to help her up. "You just have to come. There's no other way."

Carly took his hand, her other one coming up to massage her forehead. Fresh air filled her chest and she let out a cough, leaning against the wall gratefully.

"Are you okay?" He asked, reaching a hand out to her, but pulling back before she could flich it away. She looked at him wildly.

"You're really bad at this whole bad guy thing, you know that?" His face twitched into a small, sad little smile. She concentrated on what the hell to do next.

"I'm not exactly doing this willingly," he admitted sheepishly, and Carly snorted.

"I figured. So who's the guy?" Roman shrugged.

"No idea."

Carly scratched her head and smoothed down her hair. "Great, great." They both stopped talking, Carly becoming entranced in his otherworldly gaze. He refused to look away or blink, and Carly would have said he looked intimidating if he didn't look like an oversized child in those horrendous clothes.

"I could feel you coming." It was weird to admit it out loud. Like a secret being spoken for the first time. She felt embarrassed, but Roman didn't seem to mind.

"I figured," he said with a shrug, "I felt you to." _Which is how he knew where to find me._ To be fair, it made a lot of sense.

"This is crazy."

Roman nodded, and the no-speaking rule seemed to return. They both stood there, awkwardly, staring at each other and waiting for someone to do something. Carly wondered, only briefly, if she should tell him about the voice she heard. Maybe he would know who it was, or what was happening. But then again, the guy didn't seem to know much about anything. Maybe telling him something she didn't quite understand herself would turn out to be a mistake.

 _Stop trusting him, Carly. You don't even know him. Plus, he's trying to kidnap you. And you're letting him._

"So this guy who's making you do this: he give you those scars?" Roman nodded, his hand ghosting up over his face as his eyes hardened.

 _Why don't you run away?_ His answer was probably the same as her's. Why didn't she run away? Because she had a reason to stay. So that wasn't what she asked - Carly asked a lot a stupid stuff, but that would have been a new low.

"Where are we going?" She tried that stupid one instead, offering a polite, innocent smile as a free add-on. Roman seemed to orientate himself then, his ghostly smile evaporating from his face and his aura returning to its dark feel.

"Good try," he complimented her. "Ready?" Carly shook her head, a stray tear escaping her eye as she wiped it away.

"Hold up," she breathed, walking over the the kitchen to grab a napkin. She felt Roman watch her every move as she grabbed a pen and scribbled a note for her father. When she finished she stared at it for a moment, closing her eyes and mentally sending him an apology. _Looks like I've got one last disappointment for ya', pops._

She stood before Roman, clothed but feeling more naked than she had in her life. He seemed to share her sorrows, however, as he offered her another apology.

"What's his goal?" Carly decided that should be her final question. Might as well make it a good one.

Roman's eyes sparked green and Carly felt a sudden emptiness behind her. She wanted to close her eyes, to mentally prepare herself for an uncountable number of minutes screaming, to do anything, really, than just stare at him. But she couldn't avert her gaze, even as his hands landed on her shoulders, and she was falling backwards, through her world and into darkness.

"He said something about being home again? I think he wants you to look for a house on a street named Asgard. He said the sidewalks themselves are made of gold."

* * *

The humble prince of Asgard couldn't stop crying. He cried harder knowing he couldn't remember the last time he had cried - for as far back as his memories allowed him to travel - he had always held his emotions in. When great queen Ororo, his beloved mother, had died, Santo spent weeks grieving by himself at night, but he hadn't shed a single tear.

Even now, with his aunt dead and decaying in the next room over, he didn't cry for her. It wasn't because he hadn't loved them, or that he wasn't in touch with his emotions. It was quite the opposite, in fact. Santo held so much love and respect for those two women that it hurt. Shuri especially had been one of his greatest role models, always there to guide him and provide a little spunk to his life.

His mother, well he hadn't known her well at all. He remembered kind smiles, and spending weeks here and there in her care. But she chose not to live in Wakanda, and it was always deemed too dangerous for Santo to leave the country for any extended period of time. It was never explained why, but Santo lived a good life either way. He knew he was loved unconditionally by both parents and that there were never any hard feelings. He also knew that their marriage was only ended by her death, and T'Challa hadn't cried either. He had since told Santo that it was because she had every chance to live, but chose not to. Santo had no idea what that meant, but respected the private thoughts of his father.

Santo always mourned after sunset. He didn't know why, but it had become a rather gloomy tradition. He would find a large window and lean against it, watching the sun set as his mind would wander to thoughts of the lost and wishes of their return.

He cried not for his father. He thought crying for the dead was disrespectful. Someone cried for themselves, mostly, because they would miss someone, or they were hurt, or they needed something that they didn't currently have. Santo thought it was only okay to cry for someone else; to mourn what they had lost through death, not what he had.

But he would miss his father terribly. And his tears were the most selfish thing he possessed. Shuri had died earlier today, but only hours before was Santo called to the throne room, confronted by his father, and delivered the news of the sickness. It was the same one Shuri had died from; the same one that their medics had never seen before, and had no idea where to start on a cure.

The responsibilities of becoming king and Black Panther fell on ignorant shoulders. Egotistical or not, Santo knew he had been ready for those titles long ago. He knew he was loved by his country, and they would support him and love them with all of their hearts. He feared not the outside world which he had never seen before, and was prepared to ignore their judgment of his young age. Nineteen or not, Santo had trained for his entire life. And he would not let his father - or anyone else - down.

The tears continued to stream down his face, aided further by the solem awareness that Santo was now truly alone. The moment that his father passed away, Santo would be an orphan of his country. No grandparents, aunts, uncles, parents, cousins or siblings - just Santo Ororo and his lonely reign as king.

* * *

Carly was back to screaming again. It seemed to much worse than she remembered the second time around. What she thought she had been ready for turned out to become a disadvantage, her mind racing with broken strands of her prepared plan; her body resorting to flailing its' limbs wildly and tumbling over itself in uncomfortable positions

She didn't want to waste the opportunity again. She reached out, straining her arms so badly that she felt them pop, and then she screamed for an all new reason. They didn't seem to be broken, but Carly wasn't used to the physical strain of moving while falling.

The hardest part was the fact that Carly had no idea what she was looking for. Everything was familiar in just the way she didn't want. It was scary - terrifying even. The darkness surrounded her, teasing her vision with the hope of light, but it was never to be found. No matter what way she tumbled, she never entered the dark; she was always just _encased_ by it.

Carly was a very determined person. When she decided that she wanted something, there was no stopping her. And Carly _wanted_ to find that voice again. When she finally got herself to stop screaming her breaths became ragged gasps, her hair blowing into her face so hard that it hurt. The wind being produced by - still unknown- seemed almost chilly this time, freezing her skin the harder she strained.

"Hello?" She called, her voice shaking as the wind carried it around her body, but never outward. Tears that never fell flooded her eyes, blurring her vision.

"Hello?" She tried again, this time louder. The same thing seemed to happen; the wind like a cruel life force that refused to allow her voice through.

"Please, I know you're there!" She screamed words faster and louder than she had the air for. With each plead that was left unanswered she grew more and more frightened until she wished with every bone in her body that she fought Roman tooth and claw and killed him, just so that she wouldn't have to fall a second longer.

It lasted so long that she almost convinced herself she imagined the voice altogether. Of course it seemed familiar. Of course there was a voice - _it was hers._ She had probably misheard her own scream for help the first time. Her mind had crafted some other person wither her in the darkness so that she didn't feel so alone. She stopped screaming. She stopped screaming and just started falling, her fingers icy and her hope gone.

And when the voice came, it was filled with so much hope and comfort that it hurt.

"Are you done falling yet?"


	15. 216 ---

**Earth 216**

 **Eight Months and Thirty Days After Invasion**

* * *

Fandral had just settled down with a nice, hot cup of herbal tea. Something called lemongrass. It was quite delicious. He didn't know Grant - well, none of them really did - so he decided to sit back and relax as everyone swarmed the newly awoken corpse. The hot cup rose to his lips, the sweet scent of flavored water (and just a _dash_ of added cinnamon) hitting his nose in just the right amount. A warm smile settled on his face as he breathed it in, his eyes closing in contentment as his lips parted

And the door smashed open.

Fandral was on his feet in an instance, his sword drawn, his cup of tea in bits and pieces on the ground, the delicious liquid seeping into his boots. His sword lowered, and a small frown set on his face.

"Oh, Tori, do watch your entrances. I'm quite afraid you've made me spill the tea." He sighed and bent down to pick it up, selfishly remembering the olden days back on Asgard when any simple plate or glass would not have broken so easily. When the world didn't seem so fragile.

"Where's Jace?" His son demanded, his eyes scouring the room and his limbs frantic as he raced around, calling out for the rude lightening mutant. When they had found Jace and Cat together, it had stung like an old wound. The universe, or whatever was left of it, was taunting Fandral, bringing up memories of his golden days, traveling the nine realms with Thor and having the most glorious fights. He missed Thor dearly. Such a tragedy…

And seeing Jace, well Fandral didn't think it possible that someone else had lightning powers so extreme. Jace's powers, especially when backed by anger - and the kid was always angry - far outpowered Thor's own. Breaking through anything...vibranium, adamantium, the kid was damn near invincible. He thought Jace to be Thor's offspring at first, but Jace seemed revolted by the thought and was quick to shut down the idea.

'My parents sucked,' he had said, 'but at least I wasn't born to that bellowing asshole.'

"Need Jace?" Fandral repeated, using the table for support as he stood upright again. "Whatever for?"

"He's the only one who can do it," Tori insisted, racing past him again to yell into another room. "He's the only one who can close it!"

Fandral cut off his son as he turned to run again, grabbing him by both shoulders. "Tori, my brave, valliant, _charming_ son - _calm down._ Whatever is the matter?" The only good thing about the invasion had been the fact that Fandral had been reunited with his son. He loved Tori more than he loved woman and mead - more than he loved both at the same time.

Tori stared up at his father, his mouth moving quickly as he gasped for air. "Portal. The portal. Jace is the only one who can close the portal."

Fandral's hands dropped and his face went slack. He stared into his son's eyes. "We need to find Jace."

* * *

Everyone was in the room. It didn't matter who was supposed to be on patrol, or who should be sleeping or doing research or whatever. Grant was alive, awake, and talking. Even to people who didn't even know him, it was a sign of pure hope. It was a small, thin drop of rain in a world that had been set on fire.

Jamie was standing, grasping Grant's hand as he smiled and talked to all the faces around him. He sounded good. He _looked_ good. In the few hours he had been awake, Jamie was almost left feeling tricked, or undermined by the whole thing. His flesh was a soft peach color, his eyes had regained their spark. He wasn't sweaty or _dying_.

Not that she was complaining.

She was utterly fawning over him. Everytime he coughed or looked in the slightest bit of pain, she would immediately grab him a drink of water, fluff his pillow, squeeze his hand; she'd bring to him whatever comfort she could muster in that moment.

Sasha let out a billowing laugh as Grant grinned, his eyes starting to show a bit of tiredness. Jamie thought about kicking them all out so he could get some rest.

She gazed around the room, looking at all the happy people. Well, most of them were happy. Sasha's wife, Shay, stayed by the doorway, arms crossed as she stared blankly at the small crowd gathered around Grant's body. The rest of them: Steve, Ana-Marie, Clint, Nakia, and Betty Ross smiled down at Grant and seemed generally happy to be alive.

Jamie was also crying. She couldn't really help it- her damn brother was alive and smiling. She didn't know what those creatures out there were, why they were there, or what was going to happen next, but she did know that Grant would be okay. And that was all that mattered. Steve somehow shifted until he was next to her, and she felt a comforting hand on her shoulder. She sniffed and looked up at him, a small smile forming on her lips as they shared a nod and felt no need to say anything else. Jamie had grown up knowing that Grant wasn't biologically her brother, but no one else had a clue. To be in a world where that was out in the open felt oddly freeing. It was like a heavy weight had lifted and she could breathe again. She had forgotten what it felt like to breath.

But happiness could never last. There was shouting outside the room, some sort of frantic yelling and people running about. Steve's hand tightened on her shoulder. Jamie clung to her brother's hand as he looked up at her in confusion. The poor guy - he didn't even remember what happened. Said he took a walk to clear his mind and then something attacked him. Said it was like everything that made him who he was had been taken from his body and he was an empty shell as it fed on him. Said he didn't remember dying, didn't really remember any pain until he woke up.

"What's going on out there?" Betty asked, taking a step away from the doorway as another shout was heard. As the only one here (well, now besides Grant) who couldn't defend themselves, she was everyone else's responsibility.

Steve looked at Clint. Motioned for him to go check it out. Clint had the best eyes; he could see things no one else ever could, even if they stared at it their whole lifetimes. But he worked his best solo. Far away. He would scope and pick off targets before they knew what was happening. Clint could never be at his best trabbed in a crowded room. Steve was strong. He was a tank of a human, designed to save people. He would stay, protecting those who needed it, if that kind of situation were to arise.

Clint slipped out of the room. They listened, waited. Against Steve's better judgement, the others filed out as well. Several sets of feet could be heard running around, clumsily, skilled, desperate.

"We should go out there," Jamie guessed, but she didn't let go of Grant, who had turned pale again. Steve shook his head.

"Stay with Betty and your brother. I'm sure it's nothing." Jamie severely doubted that anything that happened in this world could be considered nothing. But she didn't argue, and part of her felt glad that she had an excuse to stay. _Her brother needed her._ But was she trying to make excuses to herself, or fulfilling some important task? She met Betty's eyes and looked down, shuffling her feet uncomfortably.

* * *

Tori couldn't believe the world hadn't ended yet. He had been searching for _minutes_ , and yet, there still was no Jace. Looking back on it, that should have been a pretty big clue. He'd feel terrible for it later, but this wasn't later. This was now. And now, everybody had gathered around, shouting and running and wondering what the hell was going on. It was amazing, how easily people got excited. They didn't even know why they were shouting, but they were, and it was rather annoying.

Tori stopped in the main lounge again, letting everyone rush around him until they eventually stopped, looking at him like he held all the answers. Well, at least he had most of them.

"Tori," Steve began calmly, "would you please enlighten us on what's going on?" So he did. He told them all about how Jace shut down the first portal, and how when he was about with Rayne - that got a few questions- and Roy, how they saw another one opening up. Second red flag: where was Roy? Absolutely nobody thought to ask that. It didn't seem important.

Through his story Sam Rogers had found his way into the room, scoffing through the whole thing.

"What do we need Jace for, anyhow?" He complained, flexing his arms as he crossed them over his broad chest. "We'll find it ourselves and close it." Tori didn't have time for this asshole. He rolled his eyes, wishing there was a wall with which he could smash his head into.

"Jace is the only one here with actual _powers,_ Sam. He shut it down once before, and he can do it again."

"I'm stronger than that idiot," Sam encouraged, looking around himself at the others. "Show me where it is, I'll take care of it." Tori couldn't believe no one was shutting this joke of a human being down yet. They were probably just scared, admittedly, to say anything to him while Steve was around. Respectfully, Tori had no qualms telling the young man to shut the fuck up. And that's exactly what he did.

Fandral gave a small smile. Steve looked appalled. Tori cleared his throat, Sam's eyes burning into his flesh. "So, we need to find Jace. Like now." A few people- Sasha and Clint - began the search. Everyone else stood in place; who was Tori to give orders? Tori looked to his father, and Fandral set his jaw. He would stay, ensure that Sam didn't step out of line.

"I'm plenty able enough to shut this portal down. Show me where it is." Sam felt threatened now so he turned vicious. Tori crossed his own arms, muscles rippling as he mirrored his opponent, unafraid. His wrists itched where his swords were stored, his movements calculated like a lioness hunting its' prey.

"Strength has nothing to do with this, Rogers." He didn't want to press too hard. There was still an unknown factor; would Steve back his son up, or put him in his place? Tori had a good feeling he could beat Sam, especially when anger consumed the patriot's son. But, no matter how much he loved him, he was unsure of Fandral would take on Captain America, especially when Steve was known for fighting dirty. Fandral was an honorable warrior - Steve got desperate. That's why he had stepped down, let Fandral take charge. It had been for the best.

"Just because you're a lonely skater boy who will never amount to anything, doesn't mean true heroes - people like me- can't accomplish a little task like closing a portal. Now show me where it is before you get anyone else killed."

"What are you going to do, punch it to death?"

Sam seethed. "I'll punch you to death!" He roared, going to lunge when -

"ENOUGH!" The great Steve Rogers had spoken. Fandral sheathed his sword and walked away with Tori as Steve spun on his son, his eyes wild and angry, and confused.

Sam faltered, confusion scrawling across his face. His father had never been angry with him before. What was this new word? Enough? Enough of what?

"You know where Jace is?" Steve asked, his chest rising and falling heavily and rapidly. Sam narrowed his eyes and shrugged his shoulders.

"The guy likes to work out. Boost his ego."

"So he's in the weight room?" Steve had gone pure statue. A towering sculpture made by the gods and completely emotionless. His stare was foreign to Sam's skin.

"No, he likes his privacy. He moved some equipment down to the basement." Sam's voice was quiet, silenced by the overwhelming power of his father. He had no idea what was going on.

"The basement is off-limits," Steve reminded him, and Sam gave a half-hearted shrug, his gaze falling to the floor.

"Go get him," Steve demanded.

* * *

The room smelled like metal. Heavy breaths were drawn in and out with every push, sweat dripping down his face and chest as he worked hard to his goal.

"C'mon baby...C'mon...baby.." His mutters were drowned out just barely by a soft dragging sound, rubbing, pause, rubbing, pause, rubbing, pause

"Come on Jace, just finish already. I'm bored."

He let out a small laugh, his grip wobbling slightly. "Shut up, I'm _trying_ to finish."

Cat walked behind him, staring down at him as he lay on the bench. With a smirk, she set down her nail file and reached out and grabbed the bar of his weights, her skin tinting faint blue as she pushed down on it. Jace grinned up at her, letting out a defeated breath of laughter as his arms shook and he tried to push the weight up against her strength.

"Okay, beastie, you've got me. Now loosen up before I drop this and kill myself."

She smiled innocently down at him, her short white hair framing her face like an angel. "Promise to talk to me?"

He pretended to think, inwardly straining with all his might as to not decapitated himself. Finally, he let out a heavy puff of air. "Fine, I give, I give." He watched her smile, releasing gently as her arm turned a light peach color once more. "As long as you don't make me read anymore of those stupid magazines." They playfully glared at each other, their amusement quickly turning to shock as the basement door swung open and Sam Rogers strutted in, coming to a fast holt at the scene in front of him.

"What is this?" He demanded, his eyes like beams of pure hatred as they looked from Cat, his tank top and booty shorts of a girlfriend, to his least favorite person in the world, shirtless and sweaty below her.

Cat gasped and hurriedly helped Jace lift the bar into place, backing up as he sat up from the bench and glowered at Sam, his eyes audibly popping with electricity.

"What's it look like, mate? Just lifting some weights."

"Oh, you son of a bitch." Sam stormed towards them, pointing a finger at his feet as his gaze snapped towards Cat. "Get over here," he demanded. She scurried to join him, but Jace caught her leg and pushed her back.

"You'd be best to let her go, Mutey." Jace let out a disgusted laugh, but didn't take it any further, and didn't let go of Cat.

"Look, we don't want any trouble, alright? I'm going to let go of her, and you're going to promise that you won't hurt her, okay? That seems pretty fair to me."

"You've got no business messing with a relationship that isn't yours." Sam's voice was deep and on edge. He strode forward and reached for Cat, but Jace sprung to his feet and stepped between them, a stray bolt of lightning flying awry off his shoulder until it hit the wall and disappeared. Sam cracked his knuckles. He looked back and forth from Jace to Cat, the latter hiding her face as best she could.

"You think he cares about you?" Sam spat, causing Cat to flinch. "You think he sees you for anything else than what you are? A beast?"

"Watch it!" Jace demanded, feeling Cat back away from his grasp and hearing her shed a tear. "You have no idea what you're talking about," He warned Sam, every inch of his body concentrated to fight the power inside from leaving. Sometimes he couldn't control it. Sometimes it scared him. He'd never let the fear show.

"He hated you!" Sam screamed, saliva flinging from his mouth. Cat sobbed. "He hated your blue guts! Before the invasion, he'd never be caught dead with someone like you! He only helped you because you were the only piece of mutant ass left! He doesn't care about you!" Cat cried harder and Jace tackled Sam, electricity popping around the room in blue bolts of raw energy, smashing against the floors and walls with enough force to crack them.

"I saved you!" Sam howled at Cat as she covered her ears, crouching to the floor as she screamed and wailed. His fist swung up and smashed into Jace's nose, splintering it on contact. Jace fell backwards, scrambling to get to his feet as his whole body glowed blue.

"You've done it now, frat boy," his voice was low, angry, and he was pure energy. He raised his arm, pointed, and then diverted it as quickly as he could, Cat racing to stand between them, her arms out towards them both, her face fighting to stay normal and the tears pouring.

"S-stop it!" She screamed, and Jace instantly cooled down, the pain from his shattered nose registering as it started to poor out blood.

The two men glared at each other for a few moments before Sam took hold of Cat's wrist and pulled her to the door with him, her body yanked and grabbed harshly as she continued to cry.

"And to think," Sam turned back," they all think you have enough power to shut down the portal. Pathetic, really, when even Cat can control you."

Jace would have been angry were he to have listened to the rest of Sam's sentence. "Portal?" He questioned, his mouth hanging open in anger. "There's _another fucking portal_ and you come down her to boast that you've go the bigger dick?" He pushed past Sam aggressively, shaking his head as he ran shirtless up the stairs. "You really are pathetic."

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Jamie smoothed back Grant's hair for the billionth time. Betty had long since left, not that she had noticed.

Grant looked up at her, annoyance on his face. "Why are you still here?" He asked. She gasped, taken aback.

"What do you mean?" She clutched his hand, but he let go, fighting it out of her grip.

"Jamie, get it together," he pleaded, struggling to sit up. She reached out to help him, but he glared at her. "I can do it myself!" A soft tear fell from her eye.

"Grant, let me help you," she pleaded, but he sighed and shook his head.

"I'm confused, Jamie. I've just learned that you're not actually my sister, and yet, I keep reliving my childhood. You were always there, from my earliest memory. How can you...how can you not be?" He looked at her sadly, and when she went to speak he cut her off.

"I don't need you to tell me that you are my sister, or whatever. Honestly, sis, it doesn't matter. Because I know you are. I know...I know you want to be. I know that I want you to be. I know...well, I know a lot of things. I know we can never be the same again, not really." He stopped there, briefly, to register the look of shock and hurt on her face. He reached out for her hand again, and she hesitantly took it. His thumb rubbed over her knuckles.

"We're both adults, Jamie. I was going to find out eventually. Biologically, you're the daughter of a terrorist. But hey, shh, hey," He tried to silence her tears as they began to fall, her skin burning with his every word. "Jamie… you were raised right. You were raised by my mother and father, and you have every right to call them your parents as well."

"So what is this, you think you can die and come back to life and preach to me? What do you want me to say, that I'm sorry? Because I am, Grant, I'm so sorry," Her words were broken by silent sobs that wracked her entire body. Grant shook his head with a small smile, clearing his throat painfully.

"I never want you to apologize to me ever again, okay?" He gripped her hand harder, giving it a squeeze. "But Jamie, I just want you to open your eyes. You're the bravest person I've ever met. Hell...Dad...he wants you to be the next Captain America. And you're not even his biological daughter." Grant want to clasp her hand with his other one, his words falling slightly as he realized he couldn't.

"What are you doing, Jamie? You're not a damn servant. Where's your spunk? Attitude? Everything that makes you, well, _you_ is gone. I can't see it anywhere, and I'm not going to be the one responsible for killing my sister. You're a shell of who you used to be, Jamie, and that's not okay."

She let her hand fall limp from his, her unwashed hair suddenly itchy and rough on her scalp. Her arms wound around herself, her eyes vacantly scanning her brother's face. "We shouldn't have come here," she whispered. "We never should have come here."

"I agree," Grant nodded, pushing himself further up as best he could. "But we did. And yea, this place is hell, but there are good people here. Good people like you, Jamie. And they need your help. And, well, you can't exactly help when you're so busy…."

"Being useless," she finished for him, and he nodded to her.

"Go save the world."

* * *

Tori was getting impatient. Surely it couldn't be that hard to find Jace. Search parties had been sent out to locate the portal, with several com-calls about unusually high numbers of Stingers. Still, no trace of any portals. Perhaps it was too far away. Maybe in Hong Kong, or Hawaii. He sighed, tapping his foot and itching at his wrists.

"What's going on out here?" Much to his surprise Jamie was standing behind him, looking very much like a giant pile of shit, but determined nonetheless.

"Nice of you to join the land of the living." He didn't know Jamie very well. While he had bonded with Sasha, Shay and Roy over the last couple of days, Jamie and Grant had remained hidden away, in their own little world. Still, from their first encounter, Tori held an unlikely amount of respect for her. He knew her the least, but he liked her a lot better than anyone else who had stepped out of that portal.

"Better late than never," she retorted. Her face was oily and stained with tears, but Tori didn't bother asking. Everyone here cried. It was an essential part of life this way. Cry until you can't feel anymore, and then go kill some monsters.

"Another portal was opening up. It looked exactly the same as to the one you all came through."

Her face went slack with shock before she looked like she was going to explode with excitement. "That's great! Oh my God, that's great! Where is it? We can get back-up now! No - we can bring everyone from this world over to ours! We can get Grant some actual medical attention!" She was positively radiant with joy. "Oh my God, where are the others? We need to go home!"

"We're shutting it down." Tori almost hated to burst her bubble. But he watched it deflate in a spectacular fashion. It wasn't a slow burn, air slowly seeping out until it lay flat. No, this was sticking it with a pin and watching it fly wildly around the room as it shook and spun and eventually simply fell to the ground.

"You can't shut it down!" She screamed, her eyes wild. "Are you crazy!"

"Jamie," Tori replied calmly, wary to her anger, "listen to me. Listen to what you just said."

"Listen to what I just said!" Jamie repeated, exasperated. "Did you listen? We can get help!" Her eyes were crazy, begging him to understand. But Tori knew she was just thinking about getting her brother out of her. She was crazy with protection for him. Tori knew that all too well. Tori knew...holding...he remembered...mother...no please….in his arms….mother...dying.

He shook his head, calmly walking over to her. She was like a crazed and diseased animal, flinching at his touch. "Jamie, you just said we can bring everyone over here to your world."

Jamie nodded, her eyes too cloudy to clearly see the problem. "Yes?" She asked, her hands shaking, trying to solve the world's most complicated math problem.

"It's okay," he said quietly, gently pulling her into his embrace, slowly hugging her body to his. "I can't go home either."

"Because if we can get through, so can they," Jamie whispered after a few moments, her hands coming to cling to his body. "And then we're all dead." She pulled away shakily, and Tori could have watched her eyes all day. The fog cleared; all her internal conflicts and emotions remained, but her nobility returned. Her intense drive and focus kicked in and she switched off anything that could get in the way of her and her goals. She was part soldier, part machine, just like her father.

"We need to close that portal." Tori nodded, his face grim.

"I'm sorry." Jamie sniffed, shrugging her shoulders with a small smile.

"It's fine. We'll make our own portal. After all these things are dead. Then we'll go home. But for now; we're the Avengers, and we're here to help. What happened to you?"

Tori was ready to raise a glass and 'Hoorah!' Jamie's little speech until she finished talking. He looked at himself - did he spill something on his shirt? "What? Nothing, I'm f-"

"Not a damn thing. Now, where's this portal?"

Tori turned, watching with wide eyes as Jace clung to the wall, smearing blood across it with every step he took. He was bloody and shirtless, but raw power emitted from him and made everything in the room feel static.

"Well?" He asked, his nose lying crooked on his face as two dark circles began to grow around his eyes. "What are you two staring at?"

* * *

Stingers like fresh meat. They like their victims alive and screaming as they feast. What was the joy in eating if the prey weren't squirming? But, for the hungry and lonely ones, the ones deemed weak and cast from the pack, dead meat would have to do.

Dead meat, like that boy in the puddle. It had been watching boy for a while now. There was something weird about boy.

 _Move closer,_ boy was taunting him. _Come eat me. I taste delicious._

Okay, it decides, I like yummy food. Even if it's dead.

It snaps its big ugly jaws for the fun of it. It moves closer. It steps on boy, pushing his face into the ground.

Yum, boy still bleeds.

Freshly dead

It sings

Freshly dead

Not so bad as oldly dead, but not quite alive

It snaps its jaws again. This is going to be tasty, it decides.

It takes a bite of him.

What?

No!

Blinded

Blinding

Light

Pure energy like it has never seen before.

 _No dinner today, I'm afraid,_ boy taunts. _Only death._ It dies.

* * *

They were about to leave when Jamie was reminded of something. "Hey," she asked, causing Jace to look at her impatiently.

"I'm kind of bleeding out of the face here, can we hurry this up?" He demanded, making Jamie huff her breath and turn to Tori.

"What's up?" He asked, and Jamie shrugged.

"Just making sure everyone is safe? Betty, your people out there, Roy…I have this bad feeling in my gut-"

"It's called adrenaline, sweety, roll with it." She wanted to punch Jace in the nose. Again. Jamie didn't actually believe he deserved the first blow, especially since it looked like Sam had used all his strength. There was something off about that Sam guy, too.

"I just haven't seen Roy in a while, now that I think about it. Where is he?" She chose to ignore Jace. It wasn't too hard, looking at his face caused her to cringe. How was he being so calm about it?

Tori, on the other hand, had gone ghostly white. His featherly brown hair seemed to deflate, his face widening in horror until all he could say was, "Oh shit."

That didn't sound good to Jamie. "What do you mean 'oh shit'?" She screamed, running after him as Tori fled form the building, screaming those words over and over again.

He came to a stop near an old building, one of the few left standing in the city. Jamie was there shortly after him, not quite being as fast as the Asgardian male.

"What have you done with my best friend?" She demanded frantically, hardly noticing when Jace jogged up to them moments later, complaining about their speed and leaving him behind. He soon calmed down though, and watched a frightened Tori pace back and forth. He looked to Jamie, who seemed angry and horrified all at once, and noticed that her right eye closed slightly more than her left when she squinted. He turned to face Tori again, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Yea, where is the little magic bastard?" He hadn't thought much about it. Roy kind of annoyed him. But it was dangerous out here alone for anyone, no matter how annoying or bastard-like.

Tori gulped. "Please don't kill me."

Jamie forced herself to take a deep breath. "I'm not going to kill you."

"It's just, you look real scary when you're mad. Or worried. Or, well, you just look kinda scary. Always." Jamie sighed, turning to Jace and motioning for him to get some answers.

"What? He's right. You're a little scary." Jamie groaned as Jace cracked a small smile, wincing at how much it hurt. The blood was starting to dry, which meant that everything was starting to set, which meant that if Jace didn't find the portal, close it, and get medical attention soon - his perfect nose would become crooked forever.

"Okay, new game plan," he rubbed his hands together. _It's dangerous out here alone for anyone, no matter how annoying or bastard-like._ "I'm going to go close that portal while you two lovelies find Rory. Sound good?"

"Roy." Jace rose an eyebrow at her. "His name is Roy."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't ask."

She scrunched up her face at him. "Asshole." He winked at her.

Tori cleared his throat, causing them both to snap their attention back to him. "It's my fault Roy is out here, alone. But I know what path he hopefully took, and I think I can retrace my steps back to him." Jamie nodded, and Tori held out his hand to Jace. "Good luck."

* * *

 **Why the World Sucks: The Truth Through the Eyes of Phineas M. Lehnsherr**

 **Entry 806**

It's been a while since I've written one of these. It feels almost foreign to me. I used to write these long essays. Essays on why I hate my father. Essays on how the world was punishing me for something I did in a past life. Essays on how I wished I could die, or kill him. Essays on how I wished I could simply walk away from it all; no note or number to call. Essays on how I wished Edie would die before the world burned her.

Nothing I wished ever came true. No one has succeeded in killing me, no matter how hard they try. I've been taken hostage, I've been scared and broken, I've been burned and drowned, but that sweet release never comes. I'm never granted the only thing I want in life: death. And I just can't seem to pull the trigger. To hang that noose. I'm selfish. I'm so selfish, because I can't kill myself. I can't willingly leave Edie alone with that monster. That monster who always comes to my rescue. That monster who preaches his love to me but never shows it. That monster who will never admit to my face that he is ashamed of me. That he only saves me because of them. Because of Edie and Mom.

Confession: I've never tried to kill my father. I've only wished him dead. I can take care of Edie; I'm old enough. I can take her away from all this pain. I can make sure she never stops smiling - teach her to oppress her mutant abilities and live a healthy,normal life. All that has to happen first - Magneto has to die.

We live a life of fame and fortune. He fights hard to keep us off the streets, but he fights for all the wrong reasons. He fights to kill, fights for power, fights for vengeance. Says he hates humans, yet he married one, knocked her up. I bet he killed her, too. I bet he slaughtered her where she stood when she finally told him no. I bet his sadness is fake. I bet he wishes he could kill me, too. But he can't. I'm invincible, for the moment, until Edie is done with me. My life is tied to my sister's attention span. As soon as she replaces me, I'm done for.

Heck, he could kill me now. Edie loves him more than anything in the entire world. Her father - our father- is her knight in shining armor. Even if he slaughtered me in front of her, she would cry and hug his knees and tell him that everything was okay. But he doesn't kill me, not yet, because he loves her too much.

She is his one weakness. If I want to kill him, I have to kill her. And I can't kill her, because she is my weakness too. We share something dad: and undeniable love for Eden. This is why I dread the day you break her heart. And I'll be there for her - but it won't be enough, will it? She's more powerful than we could have ever guessed. To break her, is to break the world. As soon as you realize that, she becomes your personal weapon.

I can't walk away from it, or it'll happen sooner. The longer I stay, the longer I suffer, the better a chance I have of not loosing her to his control. I have to stay.

I'm not sorry about it, wishing she were dead. It breaks my heart, but I know it's for the best. All the problems, every single one of them, would go away if she were gone. Magneto rules because he has someone for rule _for_. He cannot be taken down until she is. And I'm scared, one day, that she will be killed, and Magneto will go down in the biggest blaze of dark that anyone will have ever seen. The whole world will suffer, just to kill one man.

He's not worth it. So let him live.

I hope he finds Eden to be hell.

-Finn

Edie slammed the computer closed and flung it against the wall with her mind. Even that little bit of energy exhausted her - but she was angry. She was upset and confused, and in her mind, she could feel the whole Earth begin to shake. It was tiny, little vibrations shaking the whole thing, threatening to grow in size and power.

She wanted to scream, to rip her hair out and let it all fall apart. She didn't know why she kept reading these entries. It always affected her so. But she couldn't help it. Those words on the screen, they were the truth. They were Finn as she had never seen him before. They were ugly, nasty words, and Edie could only assume that they came from an ugly, nasty person.

She quieted her mind through a slow breathing exercise, slipping back down into the warm blankets as her head tilted sideways on the pillow.

Outside her brother cut firewood for the cabin. She watched calmly as the axe blade rose up and down with every powerful blow that Finn delivered. She imagined, just for a second, the head flying off and lodging itself into his throat. She could see the blood pouring out of the new cut, her brother bleeding out on the ground as she looked on with a smile. _Finally._

But when the axehead moved, _ever so slightly_ , she gasped and pulled with covers over her head. She could never kill Finn, her own flesh and blood. She loved him, _didn't she?_

* * *

 _Little Lion Man_ by Mumford and Sons kept playing in hid head as he floated through time and space.

Roy groaned. "What, is Jamie haunting my subconscious now?" His mumbled words were followed by a memory come to life before him, like a movie unfolding before his eyes. It was he and Jamie several years back, hanging at the Roger house as she played her music and they painted together, different brushes but same canvas. Roy floated past it with a wave of his hand.

"Yea yea, the painting turned out terrible and she only ever played Mumford songs. Okay, Google! Play something new," he shouted into the void, the spinning colors and abstract shapes around him making him roll his eyes. Well, at least he knew he wasn't dead. The music stopped and _Gold_ by Imagine Dragons rang back at him. He smiled, bowing into the spinning colors. "Why thank you." He danced a little bit, walking boredly as he did so.

A voice rang out behind him. "How about 'okay, Google', stop?" The music ceased instantly and

Roy waved behind him as he continued walking.

"Dad. Long time no talk. Sorry you're not real, I'd love to catch up but I'd rather untrap myself from the void."

Doctor Strange floated up next to him, his cape billowing in some sort of fake wind. His father was ever the dramatic, but it'd be useless if Roy didn't admit who he got his pettiness from.

"Just because I'm not real, doesn't mean we can't have a conversation." Roy snapped his fingers and a zipper appeared where Strange's mouth was.

"Yea, no thanks. If I wanted some advice, I'd talk to one of the _many_ nannies who raised me." Stephen simply wiped the zipper away and Roy groaned. "So you're even better than me in my own damn head, huh?"

"I didn't want to leave you alone, Roy," he admitted. Roy almost felt a pang of emotion. He easily shrugged it off.

"Yea, well you did. Listen, pappy, I'd love to catch up, but I'm busy. And you're interrupting my groove. So, bye-bye! I'll see you in the dark dimension sometime when I get baaaack." He flicked his finger towards his father and sent him flying across the void. He let out a whistle, admiring how far the 'ol doc flew. "Home run!"

It was a while more of walking before his father showed up again. "It should be no problem for you to get out of the void," he floated along casually, his legs crossed beneath him as he blabbed. Roy wished there was an _Office_ camera to look into.

"Dear pappy, I'm quite afraid I already know that. However, it appears that my stationed body is nearly dead. The return trip could finish the job."

There was a small silence. "I'm disappointed, Roy. There's an incredibly easy fix to your insignificant problem."

Roy's fingernails cut his palm open. "Of course there is."

* * *

Finn could tell it was going to snow soon. That's why he was working so hard. Well, that's what he told himself anyway. The more wood he chopped, the better Edie would handle the winter. He needed to keep her alive. She needed to live.

He reread some of his older entries the other night. The ones Edie weren't allowed to see. In particular, he spent a lot of time on #806. He swung the axe down hard enough to split the piece clean in half, one blow. He had blisters on his hands and hunger in his stomach, but he couldn't seem to go back inside. He needed to prepare. To prepare for winter.

Edie had always hated winter. Sure, she loved sledding and snowball fights and making snowmen- her problem was the cold. She would spend hours outside, playing in the snow, until her skin fell blue and her fingers were near ready to snap off. Erik would always chide her - though he could never yell or truly get angry with her- and tell her than she should come inside as the first sign of cold. She would cry and throw fits, demanding that he make the snow warmer so she could keep playing in it. He, Finn, would stand off to the side, ready to be yelled at later for not bringing her in sooner.

To Finn, Erik would say 'What is wrong with you? You need to look out for her. You need to protect her. We live in a dangerous word filled with dangerous people who want to hurt her. And what do you do? You let her waste away in the cold. _I'm so disappointed.'_

But what was he supposed to do? How could he cause that much hurt to his sister? To drag her away from something she wanted so much? And what would Erik say to her?

It was the same thing every time. He would wrap her in the softest blanket and sit with her in his lap as they lay in front of the fireplace. He would tell her, in German, 'You are such a strong girl, my princess. A true warrior. But sometimes, sometimes we need to know which battles to lose. That way, we can win the war, do you understand, my angel? Lose the night so that you can win the winter. Come now, to bed. You can play tomorrow little snow queen. _I'm so proud of you_.'

Finn struck the axe into the dirt, falling to his knees with the effort. Yes, it was entry #806. Edie was dying, and she was bringing the whole world down with her.

* * *

"How could I do this to him?" Jamie asked for the thousandth time. Tori felt horrible. He felt excruciatingly useless as well. He had retraced his steps perfectly, but he had no idea where Roy was. Obviously, the worst had crossed his mind. He was even beginning to thoroughly believe it, but Jamie was ever serious in insisting that her best friend was still alive, and he wasn't going to try to say otherwise. He would look with her for as long as she needed. Afterall, he left him out here, defenseless, when he knew the portal would cause increased activity for the aliens.

"Jamie, this wasn't your fault," he insisted. "I'm the one who left him. I..I thought…" Jamie forged ahead of him, sniffling silently. He was still alive. He had to be.

"No! He's not your best friend! He's mine! He's annoying and stubborn and brilliantly beautiful, and no one understands him - not even me, but I value him so much and he..he..HE CAN'T BE DEAD!" Jamie sunk to her knees, her chest expanding and falling rapidly. Tori could easily recognize it as a panic attack, but he let her work her own way through it. He thought back to when these strange people traveled across dimensions, to that very first day they came out of the portal. Jamie had been the one to lose the most - her brother died, her best friend was now missing - presumably dead according to Tori. Her big secret had come out in front of total strangers. Even before then, on her home world, her father was a terrorist and her parents were murdered in front of her. Then, for years, she was forced to hide the truth. Tori couldn't even imagine.

And now, she was tearing herself apart. For Roy. He put a hand on her shoulder and she looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "Why can't I stop crying?" She begged, "Why? Why couldn't I have been there for him, like he's always been for me? He does so much for he, he's such a good friend. I can't lose...can't lose him. I treat him like shit, and he still calls me his friend. His best friend. Oh Roy, oh my God, oh Roy, oh my God, oh Roy, why?"

Tori let her cry for a few more moments before he hauled her to her feet. "Look, Jamie, I'm going to help you find him, okay? Roy seems like a smart kid, I'm sure he's just hiding somewhere. And when we find him, you can tell him you missed him, and thank him for bringing your brother back to life."

Jamie was dumbfound. "Oh my God," Tori wished she would stop saying that. "He brought Grant back to life and I never even thanked him! He gave part of his life to somebody he hates!" Jamie let out another sob and started running down the street. "We have to find him!"

Tori followed her, glad that Rayne was never so emotionally bipolar.

* * *

Steve found Sam in the infirmary. He, admittedly rather selfishly, volunteered to stay back and guard the base. His mind was a crazy web of thoughts and emotions. Memories of his giggling son and before that the man he was named after - brave old Sam Wilson who gave his life for Bucky. That's why he was Sam Buchanan Rogers, and not the other way around. He knew Sam would be up there in Heaven, gloating that Steve must like him better, if he chose to name his firstborn Sam over anything else.

But his son was no Sam Wilson. Over the past couple of weeks, Steve could see that his son was nobody Steve knew at all. It hurt to say, but today his son brought shame to Sam's name. To his legacy. It hurt to have been so blindsided. Did the others notice his brash behavior before these past few days, or was this a new development? What really was happening between his son and that mutant girl? He had always thought that Jace was jealous of Sam's authoritative power, but he was beginning to think that Jace was just strong enough not to deal with Sam's bullshit.

Strong enough… Steve didn't think he had been strong enough with his son, raising him in the invasion, or even before. Perhaps he had let too much slide. He couldn't ever remember saying no to the lad, or disciplining him too much. He had always been so busy _playing_ the hero to truly be one.

And now, as he leaned against the door-frame and watched his son apply ice to his ribs, he could feel nothing more than disappointment.

"What happened there?" He asked, and Sam glared up at him.

"That little Mutey Jace is sneaking around with my girlfriend, so I decided to show him who's boss." Steve narrowed his eyes. Something in his gut drove him to his next question.

"You have proof?"

"Proof?" Sam sneered, "I seen it with my own eyes! Now don't you go telling me my own father is gonna side with the abominations now-"

"You watch your language, Sam Buchanan," Steve warned, his worst nightmare unraveling before his eyes. He had failed as a parent. The great Captain America, and he's got an asshole for a son.

"I'll watch my damn mouth when the world's done burning," Sam spat back, and Steve slapped him. He didn't put much thought into it, just reached out and struck him right across the cheek. Shock spread across both of their faces before Steve's settled firm and Sam's turned to anger.

"Now what in the hell was that for? I did what you asked, I told him about that damn portal! God!" Sam screamed, slamming the ice down with all his might. Steve watched it shatter across the ground as Sam pushed past him, pushing his face real close to Steve's.

"I ain't your Goddamn errand boy, and I ain't your prodigy. I'm my own damn man, so step off."

* * *

 _Soft hands circled around her body. A charming face looked down at hers as they swayed under the pale moonlight, snow circling around them like stars. She felt like they were the sky; two of the most beautiful constellations dancing together for eternity. The cold nipped at her fingers, but she had not a care in the world for them._ Let them fall off _, she thought,_ so I can keep dancing forever.

 _She was pulled closer to his warm body, her soft giggles echoing in the night as they slowed and came to rest their foreheads together._

 _She sighed. "My father doesn't want me to find love yet. He thinks I'm too young." She opened her eyes, gazing into his with passion and fury. "But I do. I love you so much."_

 _He grinned at her, his hand sliding up and down her back as a way to warm her. "Your secret's safe with me."_

Edie woke with a start, the feeling of soft snow against her skin slowly fading. Finn stirred beside her, gently grabbing her hand and caressing it as she cry.

"What's wrong?" He asked, looking her over, "Are you in pain?" She nodded her head vigorously, and Finn rose immediately.

"I'll grab the painkillers. We're a bit low, but you haven't had one in a while…"He trailed off, standing still for a moment before beginning to move, but Edie would not let go of his hand.

"Do you think he really loved me?" She asked, looking up at Finn with big, round eyes. "As much as I loved him?" Finn slumped down in his seat with a sigh, rubbing his face warily.

"Be honest, brother, please. I loved him with all my heart. Do you think he loved me?"

"I think you love too hard, sister. You pour all of your emotions into one singular person and you think they can endure it - handle all of you entirely." He shook his head, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. "No, I don't think he loved you. Edie, he betrayed you; they all did. Every single person you called friend, they all left you to die as you did everything you could to save them. They never loved you, they used you."

Edie squeezed his hand. "Like you did," she whispered, silent tears tracing paths down her drying skin. Finn nodded, bending over to kiss her forehead.

"I love you, Edie, please remember that."

"I loved father, and you murdered him."

* * *

Jamie was ready to give up. She could tell they had been out there for hours, and Tori had received message that no one else had found any portals, and they were all safely back at base. Base. Where Grant was. Where she should be.

No, she had to stop thinking that way. She had sat around for far too long and let her emotions get the best of her. She was smart. She was experienced, and she had an iron will. She'd find Roy if she had to gut every Stinger out there.

"Where do you want to look next? We've covered the whole route, twice." She knew Tori had long since given up. She could see it on his face for hours now- that hopeless expression of another lost soul. But he kept looking, for her sake. Like if he stopped, she would break. She hated to admit it, but she knew it was the truth. She was on the last straw, her body and mind working together to salvage something so that she didn't just fade into the wind and blow away.

"We work back to the base," Jamie decided, "but we become a bit more sporadic. You saw the first portal; you know how it moves and shifts. I bet Roy followed it. I bet he was the one who closed it- he probably used his life to save ours. The least we can do...The least we can do is find his body. Bring it back."

So they kept looking. It was only a few blocks back to the tower, but they searched every crevice and crack until several more hours passes. Until, finally, Tori saw the familiar glint of-

"-My skateboard!" Jamie followed his gaze, chasing after him as he picked it up and hugged it to his chest, flipping it over and and frowning. "He bent the wheel." Jamie smacked his arm.

"Worry about the inanimate object later, moron, he's got to be around here somewhere!" And he was. Just a block east - a block they had passed three other times - lay a motionless body. It was covered in mud and strewn across a large puddle, face down. Jamie gasped, sprinting over to him like she had never ran before.

She stopped at his body, her hands shaking as she squatted down and grabbed his shoulder. Slowly, and then all at once, she flipped him over and gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

Roy Strange was alive, and breathing again, but he was unconscious and his whole face was swollen from lack of oxygen. His skin was blue and his veins popped out of it like mountains. His eyes were closed and his mouth moved like he was trying to say something, but couldn't no matter how vigorously it twitched. His eyes were rapidfire under their lids, moving at miles per second like each of them were having seizures. But the weirdest part, the reason why Jamie gasped, was that just touching his cold, blue skin, had burned her own. He was quite literally overheating to death.


End file.
